


Bared to You

by Sophieeee



Series: Crossfire [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bared to You Alt., Bottom Louis, CEO Harry, Dark Harry, F/M, He can be a bit of a knob at times, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jealous Louis, Lots of sex basically, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Harry, Rape Recovery, Romance, Smut, Top Harry, Zayn is a bit of a slut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3283046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophieeee/pseuds/Sophieeee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles came into my life like lightning in the darkness - beautiful and brilliant, jagged and white hot. I was drawn to him as I'd never been to anything or anyone in my life. I craved his touch like a drug, even knowing it would weaken me. I was flawed and damaged, and he opened those cracks in me so easily...<br/>Louis knew. He had demons of his own. And we would become the mirrors that reflected each other's most private wounds...and desires.<br/>The bonds of his love transformed me, even as I prayed that the torment of our pasts didn't tear us apart...</p><p>A Larry Stylinson AU version of the book 'Bared to You' by Sylvia Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. O N E

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction (unfortunately), or this story, I've merely adapted parts of it to fit the pairing and different characters. All rights to Sylvia Day.
> 
> I hope you like it. Please comment and let me know what you think. So enjoy and don't forget to comment and if there are any mistakes don't hesitate to let me know and I'll change it straight away.

"We should head to a bar and celebrate."

I wasn't surprised by my roommate's emphatic pronouncement. Zayn Malik found excuses to celebrate, no matter how small and inconsequential. I'd always considered it part of his charm.

"I'm sure drinking the night before starting a new job is a bad idea."

"Come on, Louis." Zayn sat on our new living room floor amid half a dozen moving boxes and flashed his winning smile. We'd been unpacking for days, yet he still looked amazing. Leanly built, dark-haired, and brown eyed, Zayn was a man who rarely looked anything less than absolutely gorgeous on any day of his life. I might have resented that if he hadn't been the dearest person on earth to me.

"I'm not talking about a bender," he insisted. "Just a glass of wine or two. We can hit a happy hour and be in by eight."

"I don't know if I'll make it back in time." I gestured at my long shorts and fitted workout tank. "After I time the walk to work, I'm going to hit the gym."

"Walk fast, work out faster." Zayn's perfectly executed arched brow made me laugh. I fully expected his million-dollar face to appear on billboards and fashion magazines all over the world one day. No matter his expression, he was a knockout.

"How about tomorrow after work?" I offered as a substitute. "If I make it through the day, that'll be worth celebrating."

"Deal. I'm breaking in the new kitchen for dinner."

"Uh..." Cooking was one of Zayn's joys, but it wasn't one of his talents. "Great."

Blowing a wayward strand of hair off his face, he grinned at me.

"We've got a kitchen most restaurants would kill for. There's no way to screw up a meal in there."

Dubious, I headed out with a wave, choosing to avoid a conversation about cooking. Taking the elevator down to the first floor, I smiled at the doorman when he let me out to the street with a flourish.

The moment I stepped outside, the smells and sounds of Manhattan embraced me and invited me to explore. I was not merely across the country from my former home in San Diego, but seemingly worlds away. Two major metropolises- one endlessly temperate and sensually lazy, the other teeming with life and frenetic energy. In my dreams, I'd imagined living in a walkup in Brooklyn, but being a dutiful son, I found myself on the Upper West Side instead. If not for Zayn living with me, I would've been miserably lonely in the sprawling apartment that cost more per month than most people made in a year.

The doorman tipped his hat to me. "Good evening, Mr. Tomlinson. Will you need a cab this evening?"

"No thanks, Paul," I rocked onto the rounded heels of my fitness shoes. "I'll be walking."

He smiled. "It's cooled down this afternoon. Should be nice."

"I've been told I should enjoy the June weather before it gets wicked hot."

"Very good advice, Mr. Tomlinson."

Stepping out from under the modern glass entrance overhang that somehow meshed with the age of the building and its neighbours, I enjoyed the relative quiet of my tree-lined street before I reached the bustle and flow of traffic on Broadway. One day soon, I hoped to blend right in, but for now I still felt like a fraudulent New Yorker. I had the address and the job, but I was still wary of the subway and had trouble hailing cabs. I tried not to walk around wide-eyed and distracted, but it was hard. There was just  _so much_  to see and experience.

The sensory input was astonishing- the smell of vehicle exhaust mixed with food from vendor carts, the shouts of hawkers blended with music from street entertainers, the awe-inspiring range of faces and styles and accents, the gorgeous architectural wonders... And the cars.  _Jesus Christ._  The frenetic flow of tightly packed cars was unlike anything I'd ever seen anywhere.

There was always an ambulance, patrol car, or fire engine trying to part the flood of yellow taxis with the electronic wail of earsplitting sirens. I was in awe of the lumbering garbage trucks that navigated tiny one-way streets and the package delivery drivers who braved the bumper-to-bumper traffic whilst facing rigid deadlines.

Real New Yorkers cruised right through it all, their love for their city as comfortable and familiar as their favourite pair of shoes. They didn't view the steam billowing from potholes and vents in the sidewalks with romantic delight, and they didn't blink and eye when the ground vibrated beneath their feet as the subway roared by below, while I grinned like an idiot and flexed my toes. New York was a brand-new love affair for me. I was starry-eyed and it showed.

So I had to really work at playing it cool as I made my way over to the building where I would be working. As far as my job went, at least, I'd gotten my way. I wanted to make a living based on my own merits, and that meant an entry-level position. Starting the next morning, I would be the assistant to Niall Horan at Waters Field & Leaman, one of the preeminent advertising agencies in the United States. My stepfather, megafinacier Dan Deakin, had been annoyed when I took the job, pointing out that if I'd been less prideful I could've worked for a friend of his instead and reaped the benefits of that connection.

"You're as stubborn as your father," he'd said. "It'll take him forever to pay off your student loans on a cop's salary."

That had been a major fight, with my dad unwilling to back down.

"Hell if another man's gonna pay for my son's education," Mark Tomlinson had said when Dan made the offer. I respected that. I suspected Dan did, too, although he would never admit it. I understood both men's sides, because I'd fought to pay off the loans myself... and lost. I was a point of pride for my father. My mother had refused to marry him, but he'd never wavered from his determination to be a dad in every way possible.

Knowing it was pointless to get riled up over old frustrations, I focused on getting to work as quickly as possible. I'd deliberately chosen to clock the short trip during a busy time on a Monday, so I was pleased when I reached the Crossfire building, which housed Waters Field & Leaman, in less than thirty minutes.

I tipped my head back and followed the line of the building all the way up to the slender ribbon of the sky. The Crossfire was seriously impressive, a sleek spire of gleaming sapphire that pierced the clouds. I knew from previous interviews that the interior on the other side of the ornate copper-framed revolving doors was just as awe-inspiring, with golden-veined marble floors and walls and brushed-aluminum security desk and turnstiles.

I pulled my new ID card out of the inner pocket of my shorts and held it up for the two guards in black business suits at the desk. They stopped me anyway, no doubt because I was majorly underdressed, but then they cleared me through. After I completed an elevator ride up to the twentieth floor, I'd have a general time frame for the whole route from door to door. Score.

I was walking toward the bank of elevators when a svelte, beautifully groomed brunette caught her purse on a turnstile and upended it, spilling a deluge of change. Coins rained onto the marble and rolled merrily away, and I watched people dodge the chaos and keep going as if they didn't see it. I winced in sympathy and crouched to help the woman collect her money, as did one of the guards.

"Thank you," she said, shooting me a quick, harried smile.

I smiled back. "No problem. I've been there."

I'd just squatted to reach a nickel lying near the entrance when I ran into a pair of luxurious black oxfords draped in tailored black slacks. I waited a beat for the man to move out of my way and when he didn't, I arched my neck back to allow my line of sight to rise. The custom three-piece suit hit more than a few of my hot buttons, but it was the tall, powerfully lean body inside it that made it sensational. Still, as impressive as all that magnificent maleness was, it wasn't until I reached the man's face that I went down for the count.

 _Wow._  Just... _wow._

He sank into an elegant crouch directly in front of me. Hit with all that exquisite masculinity at eye level, I could only stare. Stunned. 

Then something shifted in the air between us.

As he stared back, he altered... as if a shield slid away from his eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucked the air from my lungs. The intense magnetism he exuded grew in strength, becoming a near-tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power.

Reacting purely on instinct, I shifted backward. And sprawled flat on my ass. My elbows throbbed from the violent contact with the marble floor, but I scarcely registered the pain. I was too preoccupied with staring, riveted by the man in front of me. Chocolate brown curls framed a breathtaking face. His bone structure would make a sculptor weep with joy, while a firmly etched mouth, a blade of a nose, and intensely green eyes made him savagely gorgeous. Those eyes narrowed slightly, his features otherwised schooled into impassivity.

His dress shirt and suit were both black, but his tie perfectly matched those brilliant irises. His eyes were shrewd and assessing, and they bored into me. My heartbeat quickened; my lips parted to accommodate faster breaths. He smelled sinfully good. Not cologne. Body wash, maybe. Or shampoo. Whatever it was, it was mouthwatering, as was he.

He held out a hand to me, exposing gold and onyx cuff links and a very expensive-looking watch.

With a shaky inhalation, I placed my hand in his. my pulse leaped when his grip tightened. His touch was electric, sending a shock up my arm that raised the hairs on my nape. He didn't move for a moment, a frown line marring the space between arrogantly slashed brows.

"Are you alright?"

His voice was cultured and smooth, with a rasp that made my stomach flutter. It brought sex to mind. Extraordinary sex. I thought for a moment that he might be able to make me orgasm just by talking long enough.

My lips were dry, so I licked them before answering. "I'm fine."

He stood with economical grace, pulling me up with him. We maintained eye contact because I was unable to look away. He was younger than I'd assumed at first. Younger than thirty would be my guess, but his eyes were much worldlier. Hard and sharply intelligent.

I felt drawn to him, as if a rope bound my waist and he were slowly, inexorably pulling it.

Blinking out of my semidaze, I released him. He wasn't just beautiful; he was... enthralling. He was the kind of guy who made a woman, or man in my case, want to rip his shirt open and watch the buttons scatter along with their inhibitions. I looked at him in his civilised, urbane, outrageously expensive suit and thought of raw, primal, sheet-clawing fucking.

He bent down and retrieved the ID card I hadn't realised I'd dropped, freeing me from that provocative gaze. My brain stuttered back into gear.

I was irritated with myself for feeling so awkward while he was so completely self-possessed. And why? Because I was dazzled, damn it.

He glanced up at me, and the pose- him nearly kneeling down before me- skewed my equilibrium again. He held my gaze as he rose. "Are you sure you're alright? You should sit down for a minute."

My face heated. How lovely to appear awkward and clumsy in front of the most self-assured and graceful man I'd ever met. "I just lost my balance. I'm okay."

Looking away, I caught sight of the woman who'd dumped the contents of her purse. She thanked the guard who'd helped her; then she turned to approach me, apologising profusely. I faced her and held out the handful of coins I'd collected, but her gaze snagged on the god in the suit and she promptly forgot me altogether. After a beat, I just reached over and dumped the change into the woman's bag. Then I risked a glance at the man again, finding him watching me even as the brunette gushed thank-yous. To  _him_. Not to me, of course, the one who'd actually helped.

I talked over her. "May I have my badge, please?"

He offered it back to me. Although I made an effort to retrieve it without touching him, his fingers brushed mine, sending that charge of awareness into me all over again.

"Thank you," I muttered before skirting him and pushing out to the street through the revolving door. I paused on the sidewalk, gulping in a breath of New York air redolent with a million different things, some good and some toxic.

There was a sleek black Bentley SUV in front of the building, and I saw my reflection in the spotless tinted windows of the limo. I was flushed and my green eyes were overly bright. I'd seen that look on my face before- in the bathroom mirror just before I went to bed with a man. It was my I'm ready-to-fuck look and it had absolutely no business being on my face now.

_Christ. Get a grip._

Five minutes with Mr. Dark and Dangerous, and I was filled with an edgy, restless energy. I could still feel the pull of him, the inexplicable urge to go back inside where he was. I could make the argument that I hadn't finished what I'd come to the Crossfire to do, but I knew that I'd kick myself for it later. How many times was I going to make an ass of myself in one day?

"Enough," I scolded myself under my breath. "Moving on."

Horns blared as one cab darted in front of another with only inches to spare and then slammed on the brakes as daring pedestrians stepped into the intersection seconds before the light changed. Shouting ensued, a barrage of expletives and hand gestures that didn't carry real anger behind them. In seconds all the parties would forget the exchange, which was just on beat in the natural tempo of the city.

As I melded into the flow of the foot traffic and set off toward the gym, a smile teased my mouth.  _Ah New York_ , I thought, feeling settled again.  _You rock._

 

I'd planned on warming up on a treadmill, then capping off the hour with a few of the machines, but when I saw that a beginners' kickboxing class was about to start, I followed the mass of waiting students into that instead. By the time it was over, I felt more like myself. My muscles quivered with the perfect amount of fatigue, and I knew I'd sleep hard when I crashed later.

"You did really well."

I wiped the sweat off my face with a towel and looked at the young man who spoke to me. Lanky and sleekly muscular, he had keen brown eyes and flawless café au lait skin. His lashes were enviably thick and long, while his head was shaved bald.

"Thank you." My mouth twisted ruefully. "Pretty obvious it was my first time, huh?"

He grinned and held out his hand. "Parker Smith."

"Louis Tomlinson."

"You have a natural grace, Louis. With a little training you could be a literal knockout. In a city like New York, knowing self-defense is imperative." He gestured over to a corkboard hung on the wall. It was covered in thumb tacked business cards and flyer's. Tearing off a flag from the bottom of a fluorescent sheet of paper, he held it out to me.

"Ever hard of Krav Maga?"

"In a Jennifer Lopez movie."

"I teach it, and I'd love to teach you. That's my website and the number to the studio."

I admired his approach. It was direct, like his gaze, and his smile was genuine. I'd wondered if he was angling toward a pickup, but he was cool enough about it that I couldn't be sure.

Parker crossed his arms, which showed off cut biceps. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and long shorts. His Converse sneakers looked comfortably beat up, and tribal tattoos peaked out from his collar. "My website has the hours. You should come by and watch, see if it's for you."

"I'll definitely think about it."

"Do that." He extended his hand again, and his grip was solid and confident. "I hope to see you."

 

The apartment smelled fabulous when I got back home, and Adele was crooning soulfully through surround sound speakers about chasing pavements. I looked across the open floor plan into the kitchen and saw Zayn swaying to the music while stirring something on the range. There was an open bottle of wine on the counter and two goblets, one which was half-filled with red wine.

"Hey," I called out as I got closer. "Whatcha cooking? And do I have time for a shower first?"

He poured wine into the other goblet and slid it across the breakfast bar to me, his movements practiced and elegant. No one would know from looking at him that he'd spent his childhood bouncing between his drug-addicted mother and foster homes, followed by adolescence in juvenile detention facilities, and state-run rehabs. "Pasta with meat sauce. And hold the shower, dinner's ready. Have fun?"

"Once I got to the gym, yeah." I pulled out one of the teakwood bar stools and sat. I told him about the kickboxing class and Parker Smith. "Wanna go with me?"

"Krav Manga?" Zayn shook his head. "That's hard-core. I'd get all bruised up and that would cost me jobs. But I'll go with you to check it out, just in case this guy's a wack."

I watched him dump the pasta into a waiting colander. "A wack, huh?"

My dad had taught me to read guys people pretty well, which was how I'd known the god in the suit was trouble. Regular people offered token smiles when they helped someone, just to make a momentary connection that smoothed the way.

Then again, I hadn't smiled at him either.

"Baby boy," Zayn said, pulling bowls out of the cupboard, "you're a sexy, stunning man. I question anyone who doesn't have balls to ask you outright for a date."

I wrinkled my nose at him.

He set a bowl in front of me. It contained tiny tubes of salad noodles covered in a skimpy tomato sauce with lumps of ground beef and peas. "You've got something on your mind. What is it?"

Hmm... I caught the handle of the spoon sticking out of the bowl and decided not to comment on the food. "I think I ran into the hottest man on the planet today. Maybe the hottest man in the history of the world."

"Oh? I thought that was me. Do tell me more." Zayn stayed on the other side of the counter, preferring to stand and eat.

I watched him take a couple of bites of his own concoction before I felt brave enough to try it myself. "Not much to tell, really. I ended up sprawled on my ass in the lobby of the Crossfire and he gave me a hand up."

"Tall or short? Blonde or dark? Built or lean? Eye colour?"

I washed down my second bite with some wine. "Tall. Dark. Lean. Green eyes. Filthy rich, judging by his clothes and accessories. And he was insanely sexy. You know how it is- some good-looking guys don't make your hormones go crazy, while some unattractive guys have massive sex appeal. This guy had it all."

My belly fluttered as it had when Dark and Dangerous touched me. In my mind, I remembered his breathtaking face with crystal clarity. It should be illegal for a man to be that mind-blowing. I was  _still_  recovering from the frying of my brain cells.

Zayn set his elbow on the counter and leaned in, his usually coiffed hair was messy, covering one vibrant brown eye. "So what happened after he helped you up?"

I shrugged "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I left."

"What? You didn't flirt with him?"

I took another bite. Really, the meal wasn't bad. Or else I was just starving. "He wasn't the kind of guy you flirt with, Zayn."

"There is no such thing as a guy you can't flirt with. Even the happily married, straight ones enjoy a little harmless flirtation now and then."

"There was nothing harmless about this guy," I said dryly.

"Ah, one of those." Zayn nodded sagely. "Bad boys can be fun, if you don't get too close."

Of course he would know; men and women of all ages fell at his feet. Still, he somehow managed to pick the wrong partner every time. He'd dated stalkers, and cheaters, and lovers who threatened to kill themselves over him, and lovers with significant others they didn't tell him about... Name it, he'd been through it.

"I can't see this guy ever being fun," I said. "He was way too intense. Still, I bet he'd be awesome in the sack with all that intensity." 

"Now you're talking. Forget the real guy. Just use his face in your fantasies and make him perfect there."

Preferring to get the guy out of my head altogether, I changed the subject. "You have any go-sees tomorrow?"

"Of course." Zayn launched into the details of his schedule, mentioning a jeans advertisement, self-tanner, underwear, and cologne.

I shoved everything else out of my mind and focused on him and his growing success. The demand for Zayn Malik was increasing by the day, and was building a reputation with photographers and accounts for being both professional and prompt. I was thrilled for him and so proud. He'd come a long way and been through so much.

It wasn't until after dinner that I noticed two large gift boxes propped against the side of the sectional sofa.

"What are those?"

"Those," Zayn said joining me in the living room, "are the ultimate."

I knew immediately they were from Robin and my mom. Money was something my mother needed to be happy, and I was glad Dan, husband number three, was able to fill that need for her and all her many others as well. I often wished that could be the end of it, but my mom had a difficult time accepting that I didn't view money the same way she did. "What now?"

He threw his arm around my shoulders, easy enough for him to do because he was slightly taller. "Don't be ungrateful. He loves your mom. He loves spoiling your mom, and your mom loves spoiling you. As much as you don't like it, he doesn't do it for you. He does it for her."

Sighing, I conceded his point. "What are they?"

"Glam threads for the advocacy center's fund-raiser dinner on Saturday. A Brioni tux each for me and you, because buying gifts for me is what he does for you. You're more tolerant if you have me around to listen to you bitch."

"Damn straight. Thank God he knows that."

"Of course he knows. Dan wouldn't be a bazillionaire if he didn't know everything." Zayn caught my hand and tugged me over.

"Come on. Take a look."

 

I pushed through the revolving door at the Crossfire into the lobby ten minutes before nine the next morning. Wanting to make the best impression on my first day, I'd gone with a simple white button down, grey slacks, black skinny tie and black oxfords. My chestnut brown hair was tamed and slightly coiffed, courtesy of Zayn. I was hair-inept, but he could create styles on men and women that were glamorous masterpieces. I wore the cuff links my dad had given me as a graduation gift and the Rolex from Dan and my mother.

I had begun to think I'd put too much care into my appearance, but as I stepped into the lobby I remembered being sprawled across the floor in my workout clothes and was grateful I didn't look anything like  _that_  graceless boy. The two security guards didn't seem to put two and two together when I flashed them my ID card on the way to the turnstiles.

Twenty floors later, I was exiting into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman. Before me was a wall of bulletproof glass that framed the double-door entrance to the reception area. The receptionist at the crescent-shaped desk saw the badge I held up the the glass. She hit the button that unlocked the doors as I put my ID away.

"Hi, Megumi," I greeted her when I stepped inside, admiring her cranberry-coloured blouse. She was mixed race, a little bit Asian for sure, and very pretty. Her hair was dark and thick and cut into a sleek bob that was shorter in the back and razor sharp in the front. Her sloe eyes were brown and warm, and her lips were full and naturally pink.

"Louis, hi. Niall's not in yet, but you know where you're going, right?"

"Absolutely." With a wave, I took the hallway to the left of the reception desk all the way to the end, where I made another left turn and ended up in a formerly open space now partitioned into cubicles. One was mine and I went straight to it.

I dropped my satchel into the bottom drawer of my utilitarian metal desk, then booted up my computer. I'd brought a couple of things to personalise my space, and I pulled them out. One was a framed collage of three photos- me and Zayn on Coronado Beach, my mom and Dan on his yacht in the French Riviera, and my dad on duty in his City of Oceanside, California, police cruiser. The other item was a colourful arrangement of glass flowers that Zayn had given me that morning as a "first day" gift. I tucked it beside the small grouping of photos and sat back to take in the effect.

"Good morning, Louis."

I pushed to my feet to face my boss. "Good morning, Mr. Horan."

"Call me Niall, please. Come on over to my office."

I followed him across the strip of hallway, once again thinking that my new boss was very easy to look at with his gleaming skin, dyed blonde hair, and laughing blue eyes. Niall had an Irish accent and charmingly crooked smile. He was trim and fit, and he carried himself with a confident poise that inspired trust and respect.

He gestured at one of the two seats in front of his glass-and-chrome desk and waited until I sat to settle in his Aeron chair. Against the backdrop of sky and skyscrapers, Niall looked accomplished and powerful. He was, in fact, just a junior account manager, and his office was a closet compared to the ones occupied by the directors and executives, but no one could fault the view.

He leaned back and smiled. "Did you get settled into your new apartment?"

I was surprised he remembered, but I appreciated it, too. I'd met him during my second interview and liked him right away.

"For the most part," I answered. "Still a few stray boxes here and there."

"You moved from San Diego, right? Nice city, but very different from New York. Do you miss the palm trees?"

"I miss the dry air. The humidity here is taking some getting used to."

"Wait 'til summer hits." He smiled. "So... it's your first day and you're my first assistant, so we'll figure this out as we go. I'm not used to delegating, but I'm sure I'll pick it up quick."

I was instantly at ease. "I'm eager to be delegated to."

"Having you around is a big step up for me, Louis. I'd like you to be happy working here. Do you drink coffee?"

"Coffee is one of my major food groups."

"Ah, an assistant after my own heart." His smile widened. "I'm not going to ask you to fetch coffee for me, but I wouldn't mind if you helped me figure out how to use the new one-cup coffee brewers they just put in the break rooms."

I grinned. "No problem."

"How sad is it that I don't have anything else for you?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Why don't I show you the accounts I'm working on and we'll go from there?"

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Niall touched bases with two clients and had a long meeting with the creative team working on concept ideas for a trade school. It was a fascinating process seeing firsthand how the various departments picked up the baton from one another to carry a campaign from proposition to fruition. I might've stayed late just to get a better feel of the layout pf the offices, but my phone range at ten minutes to five.

"Niall Horan's office. Louis Tomlinson speaking."

"Get your ass home so we can go out for the drink you rain-checked on yesterday."

Zayn's mock sternness made me smile. "All right, all right. I'm coming."

Shutting down my computer, I cleared out. When I reached the bank of elevators, I pulled out my cell to text a quick  **On my way**  note to Zayn. A ding alerted me to which car was stopping on my floor and I moved over to stand in front of it, briefly returning my attention to hitting the send button. When the doors opened, I took a step forward. I glanced up to watch where I was going and green eyes met mine. My breath caught.

The sex god was the lone occupant.


	2. T W O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction (unfortunately), or this story, I've merely adapted parts of it to fit the pairing and different characters. All rights to Sylvia Day.
> 
> Here's the second chapter. Please let me know what you think in the comments below. If there's any mistakes please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as possible. -Sophie

His tie was silver and his shirt brilliantly white, the stark absence of colour emphasising those amazing green irises. As he stoop there with his jacket open and his hands shoved casually into his pants pockets, the sight of him was like running smack into a wall I hadn't known was there.

I jerked to a halt, my gaze riveted to the man who was even more striking than I'd remembered. I had never seen hair that effortlessly perfect. It was glossy and today was swept back. That slightly unruly style was the crowning touch of bad-boy allure over the successful businessman, like whipped cream topping on a hot-fudge brownie sundae. As my mother would say, only rogues and raiders had hair like that.

My hands clenched against the urge to touch it, to see if it felt like the rich silk it resembled. The doors began to close. He took an easy step forward and pressed a button on the panel to hold them open. "There's plenty of room for both of us, Louis."

The sound of that smoky, implacable voice broke me out of my momentary daze.  _How did he know my name?_

Then I remembered that he'd picked up my ID card when I'd dropped it in the lobby. For a second, I debated telling him I was waiting for someone so I could take another car down, but my brain lurched back into action.

What the hell was wrong with me? Clearly he worked in the Crossfire. I couldn't avoid him every time I saw him, and why should I? If I wanted to get to the point where I could look at him and take his hotness for granted, I needed to see him often enough that he became like furniture.

Ha! If only.

I stepped into the car. "Thank you."

He released the button and stepped back again. The doors closed and the elevator began its descent.

I immediately regretted my decision to share the car with him.

Awareness of him prickled across my skin. He was a potent force in such a small enclosure, radiating a palpable energy and sexual magnetism that had me shifting restlessly on my feet. My breathing became as ragged as my heartbeat. I felt that inexplicable pull to him again, as if he exuded a silent demand that was instinctively attuned to answering.

"Enjoy your first day?" he asked, startling me.

His voice resonated, flowing over me in a seductive rhythm.  _How the hell did he know it was my first day?_

"Yes, actually," I answered evenly. "How was yours?"

I felt his gaze slide over my profile, but I kept my attention trained on the brushed-aluminum elevator doors. My heart was racing in my chest, my stomach quivering madly. I felt jumbled and off my game.

"Well, it wasn't my first," he replied with a hint of amusement. "But it was successful. And getting better as it progresses."

I nodded and managed a smile, having no idea what that was supposed to mean. The car slowed on the twelfth floor and a friendly group of three got on, talking excitedly among themselves. I stepped back to make room for them, retreating into the opposite corner of the elevator from Dark and Dangerous. Except he sidestepped along with me. We were suddenly closer than we'd been before.

He adjusted his perfectly knotted tie, his arm brushing against mine as he did so. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to ignore my acute awareness of him by concentrating on the conversation taking place in front of us. It was impossible. He was just so there. Right there. All perfect and gorgeous and smelling divine. My thoughts ran away from me, fantasizing about how hard his body might be beneath the suit, how it might feel against me, how well endowed- or not- he might be...

When the car reached the lobby, I almost moaned in relief. I waited impatiently as the elevator emptied, and the first chance I got, I took a step forward. His hand settled firmly at the small of my back and he walked out beside me, steering me. The sensation of his touch on such a vulnerable place rippled through me.

We reached the turnstiles and his hand fell away, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. I glanced at him, trying to read him, but although he was looking at me, his face gave nothing away.

"Louis!"

The sight of Zayn lounging casually against a marble column in the lobby shifted everything. He was wearing jeans that showcased his mile-long legs and an oversized sweater in soft brown that emphasised his eyes. He easily drew the attention of everyone in the lobby. I slowed as I approached him and the sex god passed us, moving through the revolving door and sliding fluidly into the back of the chauffeured black Bentley SUV I'd seen at the curb the evening before.

Zayn whistled as the car pulled away. "Well, well. From the way you were looking at him, that was the guy you told me about, right?"

"Oh yeah. That was definitely him."

"You work together?" Linking arms with me, Zayn tugged me out to the street through the stationary door.

"No. I don't know who he is, but he asked me if I'd had a good first day, so I better figure it out."

"Well..." He grinned. "No idea how anyone could get any work done around him. My brain sort of fried for a minute."

"I'm sure that's a universal effect." I straightened. "Let's go. I need a drink."

 

The next morning arrived with a slight throbbing at the back of my skull that mocked me for having one too many glasses of wine. Still, as I rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor, I didn't regret the hangover as much as I should have. My choices were either too much alcohol or a whirl with my right hand, and I was damned if I'd have a self-provided orgasm starring Dark and Dangerous in my head. Not that he'd know or even care that he made me so horny I couldn't see straight, but  _I'd_  know, and I didn't want to give the fantasy of him the satisfaction.

I dropped my stuff in the bottom drawer of my desk, and when I saw that Niall wasn't in yet, I grabbed a cup of coffee and returned to my cubicle to catch up on my favourite ad-biz blogs.

"Louis!"

I jumped when he appeared beside me, his grin a flash of white against his smooth pale skin. "Good morning, Niall."

"Is it ever. You're my lucky charm, I think. Come into my office. Bring your tablet. Can you work late tonight?"

I followed him over, catching on to his excitement. "Sure."

"I'd hoped you'd say that." He sank into his chair.

I took the one I'd sat in the day before and quickly opened a notepad program. 

"So," he began, "we've received an RFP for Kingsman Vodka and they mentioned me by name. First time that's ever happened."

"Congratulations!"

"I appreciate that, but let's save them for when we've actually landed the account. We'll still have to bid, if we get past the request-for-proposal stage, and they want to meet with me tomorrow evening."

"Wow. Is that timeline usual?"

"No. Usually they'd wait until we had the RFP finished before meeting with us, but Styles Industries recently acquired Kingsman and S.I has dozens of subsidiaries. That's good business if we can get it. They know it and they're making us jump through hoops, the first of which is meeting with me."

"Usually there would be a team, right?"

"Yes, we'd present as a group. But they're familiar with the drill- they know they'll get the pitch from a senior executive, then end up working with a junior like me- so they picked me out and now they want to vet me. But to be fair, the RFP provides a lot more information than it asks for in return. It's as good as a brief, so I really can't accuse them of being unreasonably demanding, just meticulous. Par for the course when dealing with Styles Industries."

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, betraying the pressure he felt.

"What do you think of Kingsman Vodka?"

"Uh...well...Honestly, I've never heard of it."

Niall fell back in his chair and laughed. "Thank God. I thought I was the only one. Well, the plus side is there's no bad press to get over. No news can be good news."

"What can I do to help? Besides research vodka and stay late."

His lips pursed a moment as he thought about it. "Jot this down..."

We worked straight through lunch and long after the office had emptied, going over some initial data from the strategists. It was a little after seven when Niall's smartphone rang, startling me with its abrupt intrusion into the quiet.

Niall activated the speaker and kept working. "Hey, baby."

"Have you fed that poor boy yet?" demanded a warm masculine voice over the line.

Glancing at me through his glass office wall, Niall said, "Ah...I forgot."

I looked away quickly, biting my lower lip to hide my smile.

A snort came clearly across the line. "Only two days into the job, and you're already overworking him and starving him to death. He's going to quit."

"shit. You're right. Josh honey-"

"Don't 'Josh honey' me. Does he like Chinese?"

I gave Niall the thumbs-up.

He grinned. "Yes, she does."

"All right. I'll be there in twenty. Let security know I'm coming."

Almost exactly twenty minutes later, I buzzed Josh Devine through the waiting area doors. He was a juggernaut of a fellow, dressed in dark jeans, scuffed work boots, and a neatly pressed button-down shirt. Brown-haired with laughing hazel eyes, he was as good looking as his partner was, just in a very different way. The three of us sat around Niall's desk and dumped kung pao chicken and broccoli beef onto paper plates, then added helpings of sticky white rice before digging in with chopsticks.

I discovered that Josh was a contractor, and that he and Niall had been a couple since college. I watched them interact and felt awe and a dash of envy. Their relationship was so beautiful functional that it was a joy to spend time with them.

"Damn, boy," Josh said with a whistle, as I went for a third helping. "You can put it away. where does it go?"

I shrugged. "To the gym with me. Maybe that helps...?"

"Don't mind him," Niall said, grinning. "Josh's just jealous. He has to watch his girlish figure."

"Hell." Josh shot his partner a wry look. "I might have to take him out to lunch with the crew. I could win money betting on how much he can eat."

I smiled. "That could be fun."

"Ha. I knew you had a bit of a wild streak. It's in your smile."

Looking down at my food, I refused to let my mind wander into memories of just how wild I'd been in my rebellious, self-destructive phase.

Niall saved me. "Don't harass my assistant. And what do you know about wild men anyway?"

"I know some of them like hanging out with other gay men. They like our perspective." His grin flashed. "I know a few other things, too. Hey...don't look so shocked, you two. I wanted to see if hetero sex lived up to the hype."

Clearly this was news to Niall, but from the twitching of his lips, he was insecure enough in their relationship to find the whole exchange amusing. "Oh?"

"How'd that work out for you?" I asked bravely.

Josh shrugged. "I don't want to say it's overrated, 'cause clearly I'm the wrong demographic and I had a very limited sampling, but I can do without."

I thought it was very telling that Josh could relate his story in terms Niall worked with. They shared their careers with each other and listened, even though their chosen fields were miles apart.

"Considering your present living arrangements," Niall said to him, catching up a stem of broccoli with his chopsticks, "I'd say that's a very good thing."

By the time we finished eating, it was eight and the cleaning crew had arrived. Niall insisted on calling me a cab.

"Should I come early tomorrow?" I asked.

Josh bumped shoulders with Niall. "You must've done something good in a past life to score this one."

"I think putting up with you in this life qualifies," Niall said dryly.

"Hey," Josh protested, "I'm housebroken. I put the toilet seat down."

Niall shot me an exasperated look that was warm with affection for his partner. "And that's helpful how?"

 

Niall and I scrambled all day Thursday to get ready for his four o'clock with the team for Kingsman. We grabbed an information-packed lunch with the two creatives who would be participating in the pitch when it got to that point in the process; then we went over the notes on Kingsman's Web presence and existing social media outreach.

I got a little nervous when three thirty rolled around because I knew traffic would be a bitch, but Niall kept working after I pointed out the time. I was quarter to four before he bounded out of his office with a broad smile, still shrugging into his jacket. "Join me, Louis."

I blinked up at him from my desk. "Really?"

"Hey, you worked hard on helping me prep. Don't you want to see how it goes?"

"Yes, absolutely." I pushed to my feet. Knowing my appearance would be a reflection on my boss, I smoothed my black trousers and straightened the cuffs on my long-sleeved shirt. By random twist of fate, my crimson shirt perfectly matched Niall's tie. "Thank you."

We headed out to the elevators and I was briefly startled when the car went up instead of down. When we reached the top floor, the waiting area we stepped into was considerably larger and more ornate than the one on the twentieth. Hanging baskets of ferns and lilies fragranced the air and a smoky glass security entrance was sandblasted with Styles Industries in a bold, masculine font.

We were buzzed in, and then asked to wait a moment. Both of us declined an offer of water or coffee, and less than five minutes after we arrived, we were directed to a closed conference room.

Niall looked at me with twinkling eyes as the receptionist reached for the door handle. "Ready?" 

I smiled. "Ready."

The door opened and I was gestured in first. I made sure to smile brightly as I stepped inside...a smile that froze on my face at the sight of the man rising to his feet at my entrance.

My abrupt stop bottle-necked the threshold and Niall ran into my back, sending me forward. Dark and Dangerous caught me by the waist, hauling me off my feet and directly into his chest. The air left my lungs in a rush, followed immediately by every bit of common sense I possessed. Even through the layers of clothing between us, his biceps were like stone beneath my palms, his stomach a hard slab of muscle against my own. When he sucked in a sharp breath, my nipples tightened, stimulated by the expansion of his chest. 

 _Oh no._  I was cursed. A rapid-fire series of images flashed through my mind, showcasing a thousand ways I could stumble, fall, trip, skid, or crash in front of the sex god over the days, weeks, and months ahead.

"Hello again," he murmured, the vibration of his voice making me ache all over. "Always a pleasure running into you, Louis."

I flushed with embarrassment and desire, unable to find the will to push away despite the two other people in the room with him. It didn't help that his attention was solely on me, his hard body radiating that arresting impression of powerful demand.

"Mr. Styles," Niall said behind me. "Sorry about the entrance."

"Don't be. It was a memorable one."

I wobbled on the balls of my feet when Tomlinson set me down, my knees weakened from the full-body contact. He was dressed in black again, with both his shirt and tie in a soft grey. As always, he looked too good.

What would it be like to be that amazing looking? There was no way he could go anywhere without causing a disturbance.

Reaching out, Niall steadied me and eased me back gently.

 Styles' gaze stayed focused on Niall's hand at my elbow until I was released.

"Right. Okay then." Niall pulled himself together. "This is my assistant, Louis Tomlinson."

"We've met." Styles pulled out the chair next to his. "Louis."

I looked to Niall for guidance, still recovering from the moments I'd spent plastered against the sexual superconductor in Fioravanti.

Styles leaned closer and ordered quietly, "Sit, Louis."

Niall gave a brief nod, but I was already lowering into the chair at Tomlinson's command, my body obeying instinctively before my mind caught up and objected.

I tried not to fidget for the next hour as Niall was grilled by Styles and the two Kingsman directors, both of whom were attractive brunettes in elegant pantsuits. The one in raspberry was especially enthusiastic about garnering Styles' attention, while the one in cream focused intently on my boss. All three seemed impressed by Niall's ability to articulate how the agency's work- and his facilitation of it with the client- created provable value for the client's brand.

I admired how cool Niall remained under pressure- pressure exerted by Styles, who easily dominated the meeting. 

 "Well done, Mr. Horan," Styles praised lightly as they wrapped things up. "I look forward to going over the RFP when the time comes. What would entice you to try Kingsman vodka, Louis?"

Startled, I blinked. "Excuse me?"

The intensity of his gaze was searing. It felt as if his entire focus were on me, which only reinforced my respect for Niall, who'd had to work under the weight of that stare for an hour.

Styles' chair was set parallel to the length of the table, facing me head on. His right arm rested on the smooth wooden surface, his long, elegant fingers stroking rhythmically along the top. I caught a glimpse of his wrist at the end of the cuff and for some crazy reason the sight of that small expanse of golden skin with it's light dusting of hair arrested my attention. He was just so... _male._

"Which of Niall's suggested concepts you prefer?" he asked again.

"I think they're all brilliant."

His beautiful face was so impassive when he said, "I'll clear the room to get your honest opinion, if that's what it takes."

My fingers curled around the ends of my chair's armrests. "I just gave you my honest opinion, My. Styles, but if you must know, I think sexy luxury on a budget will appeal to the largest demographic. But I lack-"

"I agree." Styles stood and buttoned his jacket. "You have a direction, Mr. Horan. We'll revisit next week."

I sat for a moment, stunned by the breakneck pace of events. Then I looked at Niall, who seemed to be wavering between astonished joy and bewilderment.

Rising to my feet, I led the way to the door. I was hyper-aware of Styles walking beside me. The way he moved, with animal grace and arrogant economy, was a major turn-on. I couldn't imagine him not fucking well and being aggressive about it, taking what he wanted in a way that made a woman, or man wild to give it to him.

Styles stayed with me all the way to the bank of elevators. He said a few things to Niall about sports, I think, but I was too focused on the way I was reacting to him to care about the small talk. When the car arrived, I breathed a sigh of relief and hastily stepped forward with Niall.

"A moment, Louis," Styles said smoothly, holding me back with a hand at my elbow. "He'll be right down," he told Niall, as the elevator doors closed on my boss's astonished face.

Styles said nothing until the car was on it's was down; then he pushed the call button again and asked, "Are you sleeping with anyone?"

The question was asked so casually, it took a second to process what he'd said.

I inhaled sharply. "Why is that any business of yours?"

He looked at me and I saw what I'd seen the first time we'd met- tremendous power and steely control. Both of which had me taking an involuntary step back. Again. At least I didn't fall this time; I was making progress.

"Because I want to fuck you, Louis. I need to know what's standing in my way, if anything."

The sudden ache between my thighs had me reaching for the wall to maintain my balance. He reached out to steady me, but I held him at bay with an uplifted hand. "Maybe I'm just not interested, Mr. Styles."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips and made him impossibly more handsome.  _D_ _ear God..._

 The ding that signaled the approaching elevator made me jump, I was so strung tight. I'd never been so aroused. Never been so scorchingly attracted to another human being. Never been so offended by a person I lusted after.

I stepped into the elevator and faced him.

He smiled. "Until next time, Louis."

The doors closed and I sagged into the brass handrail, trying to regain my bearings. I'd barely pulled myself together when the doors opened and revealed Niall pacing in the waiting area on our floor.

"Jesus, Louis," Niall muttered, coming to an abrupt halt. "What the hell was that?"

"I have no freakin' clue." I exhaled in a rush, wishing I could share the confusing, irritating exchange I'd had with Styles, but well aware that my boss wasn't the appropriate outlet. "Who cares? You know he's going to give you the account."

A grim chased away his frown. "I'm thinking he might."

"As my roommate always says, you should celebrate. Should I make dinner reservations for you and Josh?"

"Why not? Pure Food and Wine at seven, if they can squeeze us in. If not, surprise us."

We'd barely returned to Niall's office when he was pounced on by the executives- Michael Waters, the CEO and resident, and Christine Field and Walter Leaman, the executive chairman and vice chairman.

I skirted the four of them as quietly as possible and slid into my cubicle.

I called Pure Food and Wine and begged for a table for two. After some serious groveling and pleading, the hostess finally caved.

I left a message on Niall's voice mail: "It's definitely your lucky day. You're booked for dinner at seven. Have fun!"

Then I clocked out, eager to get home.

 

He said  _what?_ Zayn sat on the opposite end of our white sectional sofa and shook his head.

"I know, right?" I enjoyed another sip of my wine. It was a crisp and nicely chilled sauvignon blanc I'd picked up on my walk home. "That was my reaction, too. I'm still not sure I didn't hallucinate the conversation while overdosing on his pheromones."

"So?"

I tucked my legs beneath me on the couch and leaned into the corner. "So what?"

"You know what, Louis." Grabbing his netbook off the coffee table, Zayn propped it on his crossed legs. "Are you going to tap that or what?"

"I don't even  _know_ him. I don't even know his first name and he threw that curveball at me."

""He knew yours." He started typing on his keyboard. "And what about the thing with the vodka? asking for your boss in particular?"

The hand I was running through my loose curls stilled. "Niall is very talented. If Tomlinson has any sort of business sense at all, he'd pick up on that and exploit it."

"I'd say he knows business." Zayn spun his netbook around and showed me the home page of Tomlinson Industries, which boasted an awesome photo of the Crossfire. "That's his building, Louis. Harry Styles owns it."

 _Damn it._  My eyes closed.  _Harry Styles_. I thought that name suited him. It was as sexy and elegantly masculine as the man himself.

"He has people to handle marketing for his subsidiaries. Probably dozens of people to handle it."

"Stop talking, Zayn."

"He's hot, rich, and wants to jump your bones. What's the problem?"

I looked at him. "It's going to be awkward running into him all the time. I'm hoping to hang on to my job for a long while. I really like it. I really like Niall. He's totally involved me in the process and I've learned so much from him already."

"Remember what Dr. Travis says about calculated risks? When your shrink tells you to take some, you should take some. You can deal with it. You and Styles are both adults." He turned his attention back to his Internet search. "Wow. Did you know he doesn't turn twenty-five for another 3 years? Think of the stamina."

"Think of the rudeness. I'm offended how he just threw it out there. I hate feeling like an arse with legs."

Zayn paused and looked up at me, his eyes softening with sympathy. "I'm sorry baby boy. You're strong, so much stronger than I am. I just don't see you carrying around the baggage I do."

"I don't think I am, most of the time." I looked away because I didn't want to talk about what we'd been through in our pasts. "It's not like I wanted him to ask me out on a date. But there has to be a better way to tell a man you want to take him to bed."

"You're right. He's an arrogant douche. Let him lust after you until he has blue balls. Serves him right."

That made me smile. Zayn could always do that. "I doubt that man has ever had blue balls in his life, but it's a fun fantasy."

He shut his netbook with a decisive snap. "What should we do tonight?"

"I was thinking I'd like to go check out that Krav Maga studio in Brooklyn." I'd done a little research after my meeting with Parker Smith during my workout at Equinox, and as the week passed, the thought of having that kind of raw, physical outlet for stress seemed more and more ideal.

I knew it wouldn't be anything close to banging the hell out of Harry Styles, but I suspected it would be a lot less dangerous to my health.


	3. T H R E E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction (unfortunately), or this story, I've merely adapted parts of it to fit the pairing and different characters. All rights to Sylvia Day.
> 
> The descriptions of some of the minor characters like Robin may differ from how they actually look in real life as I have no idea what he looks like so I'll just stick to the descriptions in the original book. -Sophie

"There's no way your mom and Dan are going to let you come out here at night multiple times a week," Zayn said, hugging his stylish denim jacket around him even though it wasn't more than slightly chilly.

The converted warehouse Parker Smith used as his studio was a brick-faced building in a formerly industrial area of Brooklyn presently struggling to revitalize. The space was vast, and the massive metal delivery-bay doors offered no exterior clue as to what was taking place inside. Zayn and I sat in aluminum bleachers, watching a half dozen combatants on the mats below.

"Ouch." I winched in sympathy as a guy took a kick to the groin. Even with padding that had to sting. "How's Dan going to find out, Zayn?"

"Because you'll be in the hospital?" He glanced at me. "Seriously. Krav Maga is brutal. They're just sparring and it's full contact. And even if the bruises don't give you away, your step-dad will find out somehow. He always does."

"Because of my mom; she tells him everything. But I'm not telling her about this."

"Why not?"

"She won't understand. She'll think I want to protect myself because of what happened, and she'll feel guilty and give me grief about it. She won't believe my main interest is exercise and stress relief."

I propped my chin on my palm and watched Parker take the floor with a woman. He was a good instructor. Patient and thorough, and he explained things in an easy-to-understand way. His studio was in a rough neighbourhood, but I thought it suited what he was teaching. It didn't get more reality based than a big, empty warehouse.

"That Parker guy is really hot," Zayn murmured.

"He's also wearing a wedding band."

"I noticed. The good ones always get snatched up quick."

Parker joined us after the class was over, his dark eyes bright and his smile brighter. "What'd ya think, Louis?"

"Where do I sign up?"

His sexy smile made Zayn reach over and squeeze the blood out of my hand.

"Step this way."

 

Friday started out awesome. Niall walked me through the process of collecting information for an RFP, and he told me a little more about Styles Industries and Harry Styles, pointing out that he and Styles were the same age.

"I have to remind myself of that," Niall said. "It's easy to forget he's so young when he's right in front of you."

"Yes," I agreed, secretly disappointed that I wouldn't see Styles for the next two days. As much as I told myself it didn't matter, I was bummed. I hadn't realized I'd been excited by the possibility that we might run into each other until that possibility was gone. It was just such as rush being near him. Plus he was a hell of a lot of fun to look at. I had nothing nearly as exciting planned for the weekend.

I was taking notes in Niall's office when I heard my desk phone ringing. Excusing myself, I rushed over to catch it. "Niall Horan's office-"

"Louis, son. How are you?"

I sank into my chair at the sound of my stepfather's voice. Dan always sounded like old money to me- cultured, entitled, and arrogant. "Dan. Is everything okay? Is Mom all right?"

"Yes. Everything's fine. Your mother is wonderful, as always."

His tone softened when he spoke of his wife, and I was grateful for that. I was grateful to him for a lot of things, actually, but it was sometimes hard to balance that against my feelings of disloyalty. I knew my dad was self-conscious about the massive differences in their income brackets.

"Good," I said, relieved. "I'm glad. Did you and Mom receive my thank-you note for Zayn's and my tuxedo?"

"Yes, and it was thoughtful of you, but you know we don't expect you to thank us for such things. Excuse me a moment." He spoke to someone, most likely his secretary. "Louis, son, I'd like us to get together for lunch today. I'll send Clancy around to collect you."

"Today? But we'll see each other tomorrow night. Can't it wait until then?"

"No, it should be today."

"But I only get an hour for lunch."

A tap on my shoulder turned me around to find Niall standing by my cubicle. "Take two," he whispered. "You earned it."

I sighed and mouthed a thank-you. "Will twelve o'clock work, Dan?"

"Perfectly. I look forward to seeing you."

I had no reason to look forward to private meetings with Dan, but I dutifully left just before noon and found a town car waiting for me, idling at the curb. Clancy, Dan's driver and bodyguard, opened the door for me as I greeted him. Then he slid behind the wheel and drove me downtown. By twenty after the hour,I was sitting at a conference table in Robin's offices, eyeing a beautiful catered lunch for two.

Dan came in shortly after my arrival, looking dapper and distinguished. His hair was pure white and his face lined but still very handsome. His eyes were the colour of worn blue denim, and they were sharp with intelligence. He was trim and athletic, taking the time out of his busy days to stay fit even before he'd married his trophy wife- my mom.

I stood as he approached, and he moved to shake my hand. "You look well, Louis."

"Thank you." I looked like my mom, who shared my unruly chestnut hair. But my blue eyes came from my dad.

Taking a chair at the head of the table, Dan was aware that the requisite backdrop of the New York skyline was behind him, and he took advantage of its impressiveness.

"Eat," he said, with the command so easily wielded by all men of power. Men like Harry Styles.

Had Dan been as driven at Styles' age?

I picked up my fork ad started in on a chicken, cranberry, walnut, and feta salad. It was delicious, and I was hungry. I was glad Dan didn't start talking right away so I could enjoy the meal, but the reprieve didn't last long.

"Louis, son, I wanted to discuss your interest in Krav Maga."

I froze. "Excuse me?"

Dan took a sip of iced water and leaned back, his jaw taking on the rigidity that warned me I wouldn't like what he was about to say.

"Your mother was quite distraught last night when you went to that studio in Brooklyn. It took some time to calm her down and to assure her that I could make arrangements for you to pursue your interests in a safe manner. She doesn't want-"

"Wait." I set my fork down carefully, my appetite gone. "How did she know where I was?"

"She tracked your cell phone."

"No way," I breathed, deflating into my seat. The casualness of his reply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, made me fell ill. My stomach churned, suddenly more interested in rejecting my lunch than digesting it. "That's why she insisted I use of your company phones. It had nothing to do with saving me money."

"Of course that was part of it. But it also gives her peace of mind."

"Peace of mind? To spy on her grown son? It's not healthy, Dan. You've got to see that. Is see still seeing Dr. Petersen?

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Yes, of course."

"Is she telling him what she's doing?"

"I don't know," he said stiffly. "That's Jay's private business. I don't interfere."

No, he didn't. He coddled her. Indulged her. Spoiled her. And allowed her obsession with my safety to run wild. "She has to let it go.  _I've_  let it go."

"You were an innocent, Louis. She feels guilty for not protecting you. You need to give her a little latitude."

"Latitude? She's a stalker!" My mind spun. How could my mom invade my privacy like that?  _Why_  would she? She was driving herself crazy, and me along with her. "This has to stop."

"It's an easy fix. I've already spoken with Clancy. He'll drive you when you need to venture into Brooklyn. Everything's been arranged. This will be much more convenient for you."

"Don't try to twist this around to being for my benefit." My eyes stung and my throat burned with unshed tears of frustration. I hated the way he talked about Brooklyn like it was a third-world country. "I'm a grown man. I make my own decisions. It's the goddamn law!"

"Don't take that tone with me, Louis. I'm simply looking after your mother. And you."

I pushed back from the table. "You're enabling her. You're keeping her sick, and you're making me sick, too."

"Sit down. You need to eat. Jay worries that you're not eating healthy enough."

"She worries about  _everything_ , Dan. That's the problem." I dropped my napkin on the tale. "I have to get back to work."

I turned away, striding toward the door to get out as quickly as possible. I retrieved my satchel from Dan's secretary and left my cell phone at her desk. Clancy, who had been waiting for me in the reception area, followed me, and I knew better than to try to blow him off. He didn't take orders from anyone but Dan.

Clancy drove me back up to midtown, while I stewed in the backseat. I could bitch all I wanted, but in the end I wasn't any better than Dan because I was going to give in. I was going to cave and let my mom have her way, because it hurt my heart to think of her suffering any more than she already did. She was so emotional and fragile, and she loved me to the point of being crazy about it.

My mood was still dark when I got back to the Crossfire. As Clancy pulled away from the curb, I stood on the crowded sidewalk and looked up and down the busy street for either a drugstore where I could get some chocolate or a cellular store where I could pick up a new phone.

I ended up walking around the block and buying a half dozen candy bars at Duane Reade on the corner before heading back to the Crossfire. I'd been gone just about an hour, but I wasn't going to use the extra time Niall had given me. I needed to work to distract me from my crazy-ass family.

As I caught an empty elevator car, I ripped open a bar and bit viciously into it. I was making strides toward filling my self-imposed chocolate quota before I hit the twentieth floor when the car stopped on the fourth. I appreciated the added time the stop gave me to enjoy the comfort of dark chocolate and caramel melting over my tongue.

The doors slid apart and revealed Harry Styles talking to two other gentlemen.

As usual, I lost my breath at the sight of him, which reignited my fading irritation. Why did he have that effect on me? When was I going to become immune?

He glanced over and his lips curved into a slow, heart-stopping smile when he saw me.

Great. Just my crappy luck. I'd become some kind of challenge.

Styles' smile faded into a frown. "We'll finish this later," he murmured to his companions without looking away from me.

Stepping into the car, he lifted a hand to discourage them from following him. They blinked in surprise, glancing at me, then Styles, and then back again.

I stepped out, deciding it would be safer for my sanity to take a different car up.

"Not so fast, Louis." Styles caught me by the elbow and tugged me back. The doors shut and the elevator glided smoothly into motion.

"What are you doing?" I snapped. After dealing with Dan, the last thing I needed was another domineering male trying to push me around.

Styles caught me by the upper arms and searched my face with that vivid green gaze. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

The now-familiar electricity crackled to life between us, the pull made fiercer by my temper. "You."

"Me?" His thumbs stroked over my shoulders. Releasing me, he withdrew a lone key from his pocket and plugged it into the panel. All the light cleared except for the one for the top floor.

He wore black again, with fine grey pinstripes. Seeing him from behind was a revelation. His shoulders were nicely broad without being bulky, emphasizing his lean waist and long legs. The chocolate strands of hair dusting over his collar tempted me to clench them and pull. Hard. I wanted him to be as pissy as I was. I wanted a fight.

"I'm not in the mood for you now, Mr. Styles."

He watched the antique-style needle above the doors mark the passing floors. "I can get you in the mood."

"I'm not interested."

Styles glanced over his shoulder at me. His shirt and tie were both the same rich cerulean as his irises. The effect was striking. "No lies, Louis. Ever."

"That's not a lie. So what if I'm attracted to you? I expect most people are." Wrapping up what was left of my candy bar, I shoved it back into the shopping bag I'd tucked into my satchel. I didn't need chocolate when I was sharing air with Harry Styles. "But I'm not interested in doing anything about it."

He faced me then, turning in a leisurely pivot, that ghost of a smile softening his sinful mouth. His ease and unconcern aggravated me further. " _Attraction_ is too tame a word for"- he gestured to the space between us- "this."

"Call me crazy, but I have to actually  _like_  someone before I get naked and sweaty with him."

"Not crazy," he said. "But I don't have the time or the inclination to date."

"that makes two of us. Glad we got that cleared up."

He stepped closer, his hand lifting to my face. I forced myself not to move away or give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated. His thumb brushed over the corner of my mouth, then lifted to his own. He sucked on the pad and purred, "Chocolate and you. Delicious."

A shiver moved through me, followed by a heated ache between my legs as I imagined licking chocolate off his lethally sexy body.

His gaze darkened and his voice lowered intimately. "Romance isn't in my repertoire, Louis. But a thousand ways to make you come are. Let me show you."

The car slowed to a halt. He withdrew the key from the panel and the doors opened.

I backed into the corner and shooed him out with a flick of my wrist. "I'm really not interested."

"We'll discuss." Styles caught me by the elbow and gently, but insistently, urged me out.

I went along because I like the charge I got from being around him and because I was curious to see what he had to say when afforded more than five minutes of my time.

 He was buzzed through the security door so quickly there was no need for him to break stride. The pretty redhead at the reception desk pushed hastily to her feet, about to impart some information until he shook his head impatiently. Her mouth snapped shut and she stared at me, her eyes wide, as we passed at a brisk pace.

The walk to Styles' office mercifully short. His secretary stood when he saw his boss's approach but remained silent when he noted that Styles wasn't alone.

"Hold my calls, Scott," Styles said, steering me into his office through the open glass double doors.

Despite my irritation, I couldn't help but be impressed with Harry Styles' spacious command center. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city on two sides, while a wall of glass faced the rest of the office space. The one opaque wall opposite the massive desk was covered in flat screens streaming news channels from around the world. There were three distinct seating areas, each one larger than Niall's entire office, and a bar that showcased jeweled crystal decanters, which provided the only spots of colour in a palette that was otherwise black, gray, and white.

Styles hit a button on his desk that closed the doors, then another that instantly frosted the clear glass wall, effectively shielding us from the view of his employees. With the beautiful sapphire-hued reflective film on the exterior windows, privacy was assured. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a chrome coat rack. Then he returned to where I'd remained standing just inside the doors. "Something to drink, Louis?"

"No, thank you." Damn it. He was even yummier in just the vest. I could better see how fit he was. How strong his shoulders were. How beautifully his biceps and ass flexed as he moved.

He gestured toward a black leather sofa. "Have a seat."

"I have to go back to work."

"And I have a meeting at two. The sooner we work this out, the sooner we can both get back to business. Now, sit down."

"What do you think we're going to work out?"

Sighing, he scooped me up like a bride and carried me over to the sofa. He dropped me on my butt, then sat next to me. "Your objections. It's time to discuss what's going to take to get you beneath me."

"A miracle." I pushed back from him, widening the space between us. I tugged at the hem of my dress shirt. "I find your approach crude and offensive."

And a major turn-on, but I was never going to admit it.

He contemplated me with narrow eyes. "It may be blunt, but it's honest. You don't strike me as the kind of man who wants bullshit and flattery instead of the truth."

"What I want is to be seen as having more to offer than an inflatable sex doll."

Styles' brows shot up. "Well, then."

"Are we done?" I stood up.

Wrapping my wrist with his fingers, he pulled me back down. "Hardly. We've established some talking points: We have an intense sexual attraction and neither of us wants to date. So what do you want- exactly? Seduction, Louis? Do you want to be seduced?"

I was equally fascinated and appalled by the conversation. And, yes, tempted. It was hard not to be while faced with such a gorgeous, virile male so determined to get hot and sweaty with me. Still, the dismay won out. "Sex that's planned like a business transaction is a turnoff for me."

"Establishing parameters in the beginning makes it less likely that there'll be exaggerated expectations and disappointment at the conclusion."

"Are you kidding?" I scowled. "Listen to yourself. Why even call it a fuck? Why not be clear and call it a seminal emission in a pre-approved orifice?"

He pissed me off by throwing his head back and laughing. The full, throaty sound flowed over me like a rush of warm water. My awareness of him heightened to a physically painful degree. His earthy amusement made him less sex god and more human. Flesh and blood. Real.

I pushed to my feet and backed out of reach. "Casual sex doesn't have to include wine and roses, but for God's sake, whatever else it is, sex should be personal. Friendly even. With mutual respect at the very least."

His humor fled as he stood, his eyes darkening. "There are no mixed signals in my private affairs. You want me to blur that line. I can't think of a good reason to."

"I don't want you to do jack shit, besides let me get back to work."

I strode to the door and yanked on the handle, cursing softly when it didn't budge. "Let me out, Styles."

I felt him come up behind me. His palms pressed flat to the glass on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. I couldn't think of my own self-preservation when he was so close.

The strength and demand of his will exuded an almost tangible force field. When he stepped close enough, it surrounded me, closing me in with him. Everything outside that bubble ceased to exist, while inside it my entire body strained toward his. That he had such a profound, visceral effect on me while being so damn irritating had my mind spinning. How could I be so turned on by a man whose words should've turned me completely off?

"Turn around, Louis."

My eyes closed against the surge of arousal I felt as his authoritative tone. God, he smelled good. His powerful frame radiated heat and hunger, spurring my own wild desire for him. The uncontrollable response was intensified by my lingering frustration with Robin and my more recent aggrivation with Styles himself.

I wanted him. Bad. But he was no good for me. Honestly, I could screw up my life on my own. I didn't need any help.

My flushed forehead touched the air-conditioned glass. "Let it go, Styles."

"I am. You're too much trouble." His lips brushed behind my ear. One of hishands pressed flat to my stomach, the fingers splaying to urge me back against him. He was as aroused as I was, his cock hard and thick against my lower back. "Turn around and say good-bye."

Disappointed and regretful, I turned in his grip, sagging against the door to cool my heated back. He was curved over me, his luxurious hair framing his beautiful face, his forearm propped against the door to bring him closer. I had almost no room to breathe. The hand he'd had at my waist was now resting on my hip, tightening reflexively and driving me mad. He stared, his gaze searingly intense.

"Kiss me," he said hoarsely. "Give me that much."

Panting softly, I licked my dry lips. He groaned, tilted his head, and sealed his mouth over mine. I was socked by how soft his firm lips were and the gentleness of the pressure he exerted. I sighed and his tongue dipped inside, tasting me in long, leisurely licks. His kiss was confident, skilled, and just the right side of aggressive to turn me on wildly.

I distantly registered my satchel hitting the floor; then my hands were in his hair. I pulled on the chocolate strands, using them to direct his mouth over mine. He growled, deepening the kiss, stroking my tongue with lush slides of his own. I felt the raging beat of his heart against my chest, proof that he wasn't just a hopeless ideal conjured by my fevered imagination.

He pushed away from the door. Cupping the back of my head and my buttocks, he lifted me off my feet. "I want you, Louis. Trouble or not, I can't stop."

I was pressed full-body against him, achingly aware of every hot, hard inch of him. I kissed him back as if I could eat him alive. My skin was damp and too sensitive, my nipples hard and my dick throbbed for attention, pounding along with my raging heartbeat.

I was vaguely aware of movement, and then the couch was against my back. Styles was levered over me with one knee, sliding upward along my thigh in a firmly possessive glide.

His breath hissed out when he reached my fly. He tore his gaze away from mine and looked down, pushing my shirt higher and my pants lower to bare me from the waist down.

"Jesus, Louis." A low rumble vibrated in his chest, the primitive sound sending goose bumps racing across my skin.

In a daze, I watched Styles' body lower to mine my legs sliding apart to accomodate the width of his hips. My muscles strained with the urge to lift toward him, to hasten the contact between us that I'd been craving since I first laid eyes on him. Lowering his head, he took my mouth again, bruising my lips with a fineedge of violence.

Abruptly, he yanked, himself away, stumbling to his feet.

I lay there gasping and hard, so willing and ready. Then I realized why he'd reacted so fiercely.

Someone was behind him.


	4. F O U R

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction (unfortunately), or this story, I've merely adapted parts of it to fit the pairing and different characters. All rights to Sylvia Day.
> 
> Here's chapter four, I hope your enjoying so far, please comment, it means a lot and makes this worth it! Also I know Anne doesn't use her old married names but in the original book the mother does. -Sophie

Mortified by the sudden intrusion into our privacy, I scrambled up and back into the armrest, yanking up my pants.

"...two o'clock appointment is here."

It took an endless moment to realize Styles and I were still alone in the room, that the voice I'd heard had come through a speaker. Styles stood at the far end of the sofa, flushed and scowling, his chest heaving. His tie was loosened and the fly of his slacks strained against his very impressive erection.

I had a nightmare vision in my head of what I must look like. And I was late getting back to work.

"Christ." He shoved both hands through his hair. "It's the middle of the fucking day. In my goddamn fucking office!"

I got to my feet and tried to straighten my appearance.

"Here." He came to me, yanking my shirt down again.

Furious at what I'd almost let happen when I should be at work, I smacked his hands. "Stop it. Leave me alone."

"Shut up, Louis," he said grimly, catching the hem of my dress shirt again and tugging it into place, adjusting my tie so that it once again fell straight down my chest. Then he pulled up my fly, smoothing my pants with calm, expert hands. "Fix your hair."

Styles retrieved his coat, shrugging into it before adjusting his tie. We reached the door at the same time, and when I crouched to fetch my satchel, he lowered with me.

He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

My throat burned. I was aroused and mad an thoroughly embarrassed. I'd never in my life lost my mind like that. And I hated that I'd done so with  _him_ , a man whose approach to sexual intimacy was so clinical it depressed me just thinking about it.

I jerked my chin away. "Do I  _look_  okay?"

"You look beautiful and fuckable. I want you so badly it hurts. I'm dangerously close to taking you back to the couch and making you come 'til you beg me to stop."

"Can't accuse you of being silver-tongued," I muttered, aware that I wasn't offended. In fact, the rawness of his hunger for me was a serious aphrodisiac. Clutching the strap of my satchel, I stood on shaky legs. I needed to get away from him. And, when my workday was done, I needed to be alone with a big glass of wine.

Styles stood with me. "I'll juggle what I have to and be done by five. I'll come get you then."

"No, you won't. This doesn't change anything."

"The hell it doesn't."

"Don't be arrogant, Styles. I lost my head for a second, but I still don't want what you want."

His fingers curled around the door handle. "Yes, you do. You just don't want it the way I want to give it to you. So, we'll revisit and revise."

More business. Cut-and-dried. My spine stiffened.

I set my hand over his and yanked on the handle, ducking under his arm to squeeze out the door. His secretary shoved quickly to his feet, gaping, as did the woman and the two men who were waiting for Tomlinson. I heard him speak behind me.

"Scott will show you into my office. I'll be just a moment."

He caught me by reception, his arm crossing my lower back to grip my hip. Not wanting to make a scene, I waited until we were by the elevators to pull away.

He stood calmly and hit the call button. "Five o'clock, Louis."

I stared at the lightened button. "I'm busy."

"Tomorrow, then."

"I'm busy all weekend."

Stepping in front of me, he asked tightly, "With whom?"

"That's none of your-"

His hand covered my mouth. "Don't. Tell me when, then. And before you say never, take a good look at me and tell me if you see a man who's easily deterred."

His face was hard, his gaze narrowed and determined. I shivered. I wasn't sure I'd win a battle of wills with Harry Styles.

Swallowing, I waited until he lowered his hand and said, "I think we both meed to cool off. Take a couple of days to think."

He persisted. "Monday after work."

The elevator arrived and I stepped into it. Facing him, I countered, "Monday lunch."

We'd have only an hour, a guaranteed escape.

Just before the doors closed, he said, "We're going to happen, Louis."

It sounded as much like a threat as a promise.

***

"Don't sweat it, Louis," Niall said, when I arrived at my desk nearly a quarter after two. "You didn't miss anything. I had a late lunch with Mr. Leaman. I just barely got back myself."

"Thank you." No matter what he said, I still felt terrible. My kick-ass Friday morning seemed to have happened days ago.

We worked steadily until five, discussing a fast-food client and contemplating some possible tweaks to ad copy for a chain of organic grocery stores.

"Talk about strange bedfellows," Niall had teased, not knowing how apt that was in regard to my personal life.

I'd just shut down my computer and was pulling my satchel out of the drawer when my phone rang. I glanced at the clock, saw it was exactly five, and considered ignoring the call because I was technically done for the day.

But since I was still feeling shitty about my overly long lunch, I considered it penance and answered. "Niall Horan's-"

"Louis, honey. Dan says you forgot your cell phone at his office."

I exhaled in a rush and sagged back into my chair. I could picture the handkerchief wringing that usually accompanied that particular anxious tone of my mother's. It drove me nuts and it broke my heart. "Hi, Mom. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm lovely. Thank you." My mom had a voice that was both girlish and breathy, like Marilyn Monroe crossed with Scarlett Johansson. "Clancy dropped your phone off with concierge at your place. You really shouldn't go anywhere without it. You never know when you might need to call for someone-"

I'd been debating the logistics of just keeping the phone and forwarding calls to a new number I didn't share with my mom, but that wasn't my biggest concern. "What does Dr. Petersen say about you tracing my phone?"

The silence on the other end of the line was telling. "Dr. Petersen knows I worry about you."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, "I think it's time for us to have another joint appointment, Mom."

"Oh...of course. He did mention that he'd like to see you again."

 _Probably because he suspects you're not being forthcoming._  I changed the subject. "I really like my new job."

"That's wonderful, Louis! Is your boss treating you well?"

"Yes, he's great. I couldn't ask for anyone better."

"Is he handsome?"

I smiled. "Yes, very. And he's taken."

"Damn it. The good ones always are." She laughed and my smile widened.

I loved it when she was happy. I wished she were happy more often.

"I can't wait to see you tomorrow at the advocacy dinner."

Johanna Deakin was in her element at society functions, a gilded, shining beauty who'd never lacked male attention in her life.

"Let's make a day of it," my mom said breathlessly. "You, me, and Zayn. We'll go to the spa, get pretty and polished. I'm sure you could use a massage after working so hard."

"I won't turn one down, that's for sure. And I know Zayn will love it."

"Oh, I'm excited! I'll send a car by your place around eleven?"

"We'll be ready."

After I hung up, I leaned back in my chair and exhaled, needing a hot bath and an orgasm. If Harry Styles somehow found out I masturbated while thinking about him, I didn't care. Being sexually frustrated was weakening my position, a weakness I knew he wouldn't be sharing. No doubt he'd have a preapproved orifice lined up before day's end.

My phone rang again. My mother was rarely distracted for long. The five minutes since we'd ended our call was just about the right length of time for her to realize the cell phone issue hadn't been resolved. Once again, I debated ignoring the phone, but I didn't want to take any of the day's crap home with me.

I answered with my usual greeting, but it lacked its usual punch.

"I'm still thinking about you."

The velvet rasp of Styles' voice flooded me with such relief that I realized I'd been hoping to hear it again. Today.

God. The craving was so acute I knew he'd become a drug to my body, the prime source of some very intense highs.

"I can still feel you, Louis. Still taste you. I've been hard since you left, through two meetings and one teleconference. You've got the advantage; state your demands."

"Ah," I murmured. "Lemme think."

I let him wait, smiling as I remembered Zayn's comment about blue balls. "Hmm...Nothing is coming to mind. But I do have some friendly advise. Go spend time with someone who salivates at your feet and makes you feel like a god. Fuck them until neither of you can walk. When you see me on Monday you'll be totally over it and your life will return to its usual obsessive-compulsive order."

The creak of leather sounded over the phone and I imagined him leaning back in his desk chair. "That was your one free pass, Louis. The next time you insult my intelligence, I'll take you over my knee."

"I don't like that sort of thing." And yet the warning, given in that voice, aroused me. Dark and Dangerous for sure.

"W'll discuss. In the interim, tell me what you  _do_ like."

I stood. "You definitely have the voice for phone sex, but I've got to go. I have a date with my right hand and a butt plug."

I should've hung up then, to gain the full effect of the brush-off, but I couldn't resist learning if he'd gloat like I had imagined he would. Plus, I was having fun with him.

"Oh, Louis." Harry spoke my name in a decadent purr. "You're determined to drive me to my knees, aren't you? What will it take to talk you into a threesome with your butt plug?"

I ignored both questions as I slung my bag over my shoulder, grateful he couldn't see how my hand shook. I was  _not_  discussing butt plugs with Harry Styles. I'd never discussed masturbation openly with a man, let alone a man who was for all intents and purposes a stranger to me. "My butt plug and I have a longtime understanding- when we're done with each other, we know exactly which one of us has been used, and it isn't me. Good night, Louis."

I hung up and took the stairs, deciding the twenty-floor descent would serve double duty as both an avoidance technique and a replacement for a visit to the gym.

 

I was so grateful to be home after the day I'd had that I practically danced through my apartment's front door. My heartfelt "God, it's good to be home!" and accompanying spin was vehement enough to startle the couple on the couch.

"Oh," I said, wincing at my own silliness. Zayn wasn't in a compromising position with his guest when I barged in, but they'd been sitting close enough to suggest intimacy.

Grudgingly, I thought of Harry Styles, who preferred to strip all intimacy out of the most intimate act I could imagine. I'd had one-night stands and friends with benefits, and no one knew better than I that sex and making love were two very different things, but I didn't think I'd ever be able to view sex like a handshake. I thought it was sad that Styles did, even though he wasn't a man who inspired pity or sympathy.

"Hey, baby girl," Zayn called out, pushing to his feet. "I was hoping you'd make it back before Liam had to leave."

"I have class in an hour," Liam explained, rounding the coffee table as I dropped my satchel on the floor. "But I'm glad I got to meet you before I left."

"Me, too." I shook the hand he extended to me, taking him in with a quick glance. He was about my age, I guessed. Average height and nicely muscular. He had short brown hair and soft brown eyes.

"Mind if I grab a glass of wine?" I asked. "It's been a long day."

"Go for it," Liam replied.

"I'll take one, too." Zayn joined us by the breakfast bar. He was wearing loose-fitting black jeans and an off-the-shoulder black sweater. The look was casual and elegant and did a phenomenal job of offsetting his black hair and dark brown eyes.

I went to the wine fridge and pulled out a random bottle.

Liam shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, talking quietly with Zayn as I uncorked and poured.

The phone rang and I grabbed the handset off the wall. "Hello?"

"Hey, Louis? It's Parker Smith."

"Parker, hi." I leaned my hip into the counter. "How are you?"

"I hope you don't mind my calling. Your step-dad gave me your home number when I couldn't reach you on your cell."

 _Gah._  I'd had enough of Dan for one day. "Not at all. What's up?"

"Honestly? Everything's looking up right now. Your step-dad is like my fairy godfather. He's funding a few safety improvements to the studio and some much needed upgrades. That's why I'm calling. The studio's going to be out of commission next week. Classes will resume a week from Monday."

I closed my eyes, struggling to tamp down a flare of exasperation. It wasn't Parker's fault that Dan and my mom were overprotective control freaks. Clearly they didn't see the irony of defending me while I was surrounded by people trained to do that very thing. "Sounds good. I can't wait. I'm really excited to be training with you."

"I'm excited, too. I'm going to work you hard, Louis. Your parents are going to get their money's worth."

I set a filled glass in front of Zayn and took a big gulp out of my own. It never ceased to amaze me how much cooperation money could buy. But again, it wasn't Parker's fault. "No complaints here."

"We'll get started first thing the next week. Your driver has the schedule."

"Great. So you then." I hung up and caught the glance Liam shot Zayn when he thought neither of us was looking. It was soft and filled with sweet yearning, and it reminded me that my problems could wait. "I'm sorry I caught you on the way out, Liam. Do you have time for pizza Wednesday night? I'd love to do more than say hi and bye."

"I have class." He gave me a regretful smile and shot another side glance at Zayn. "But I could come by on Tuesday."

"That'd be great." I smiled. "We could order in and have a movie night."

"I'd like that."

I was rewarded with the kiss Zayn blew me as he headed to the door to show Liam out. When he returned to the kitchen he grabbed his wine and said, "All right. Spill it, Louis. You looked stressed."

"I am," I agreed, grabbing the bottle and moving into the living room.

"It's Harry Styles, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. But I don't want to talk about him." Although Harry's pursuit was exhilarating, his goal sucked. "Let's talk about you and Liam instead. How did you two meet?"

"I ran across him on a job. He's working part time as a photographer's assistant. Sexy, isn't he?" His eyes were bright and happy. "And a real gentleman. In an old-school way."

"Who knew there were any of those left?" I muttered before polishing off my first glass.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry, Zayn. He seemed great, and he obviously digs you. Is he studying photography?"

"Veterinary medicine."

"Wow. That's awesome."

"I think so, too. But forget about Liam for a minute. Talk about what's bugging you. Get it out."

I sighed. "My mom. She found out about my interest in Parker's studio and now she's freaking out."

"What? How'd she find out? I swear I haven't told anyone."

"I know you didn't. Never even crossed my mind." Grabbing the bottle off the table, I refilled my glass. "Get this. She's been tracking my cell phone."

Zayn's brows rose. "Seriously? That's... creepy."

"I know, right?" That's what I told Robin, but he doesn't want to hear it."

"Well, hell." He ran a hand through his quiff. "So what do you do?"

"Get a new phone. And meet with Dr. Petersen to see if he can't talk some sense into her."

"Good move. Turn it over to her shrink. So... is everything okay with your job? Do you still love it?"

"Totally." My head fell back into the sofa cushions and my eyes closed. "My work and you are my lifesavers right now."

"What about the young hottie bazillionaire who want to nail you? Come on, Louis. You know I'm dying her. What happened?"

I told him, of course. I wanted his take on it all. But when I finished, he was quiet. I lifted my head to look at hi, and found him bright-eyed and biting his lip.

"Zayn? What are you thinking?"

"I'm feeling kind of hot from that story." He laughed, and the warm, richly masculine sound swept a lot of my irritation away. "He's got to be so confused right now. I would've paid money to see his face when you hit him with that bit he wanted to spank you over."

"I can't believe he said that." Just remembering Styles' voice when he made that threat had my palms damp enough to leave steam on my glass. "What the heel is he into?"

"Spanking's not deviant. Besides, he was going for missionary on the couch, so he's not averse to the basics." Zayn fell into the sofa, a brilliant smile lighting up his handsome face. "you're a huge challenge to a guy who obviously thrives on them. And he's willing to make concessions to have you, which I'd bet he's not used to. Just tell him what you want."

I split the last of the wine between us, feeling marginally better with a bit of alcohol in my veins. What  _did_  I want? Aside from the obvious? "We're totally incompatible."

"Is that what you call what happened on his couch."

"Zayn, come on. Boil it down. He picked me up off the lobby floor and then asked me to fuck. That's really it. Even a guy I take home from a bar has more going for him than that. 'Hey, what's your name? Come here often? Who's your friend? What are you drinking? Like to dance? Do you work around here?'"

"All right, all right. I get it." He set his glass down on the table.

"Let's go out. Hit a bar. Dance 'til we drop. Maybe meet some guys who'll talk you up some."

"Or at least buy me a drink."

"Hey, Styles offered you one of those in his office."

I shook my head and stood. "Whatever. Let me take a shower and we'll go."

 

I threw myself into clubbing like it was going out of style. Zayn and I bounced all over downtown clubs from Tribeca to the East Village, wasting stupid money on cover charges and having a fabulous time. I danced until my feet felt like they were going to fall off, but I toughed it out until Zayn complained about his heeled boots first.

We'd just stumbled out of a techno-pop club with a plan to buy me flip-flops at a nearby Walgreens when we ran across a hawker promoting a lounge a few blocks away.

"Great place to get off your feet for a while," he said, without the usual flashy smile or exaggerated hype most of the hawkers employed. His clothes- black jeans and a turtleneck- were more upscale, which intrigued me. And he didn't have flyers or postcards. What he handed me was a business card made from papyrus paper and printed with a gilded font that caught the light of the electric signage around us. I made a mental note to hang on to it as a great piece of print advertising.

A stream of quickly moving pedestrians flowed around us. Zayn squinted down at the lettering, having a few more drinks in him that I did. "Looks swank."

"Show them that card," the hawker urged. "You'll skip the cover."

"Sweet." Zayn linked arms with me and dragged me along. "Let's go. You might find a quality guy in a swanky joint."

My feet were seriously killing me by the time we found the place, but I quit bitching when I saw the charming entrance. The line to get in was long, extending down the street and around the corner. Amy Winehouse's soulful voice drifted out of the open door, as did well-dressed customers who exited with big smiles.

True to the hawker's word, the business card was a magic key that granted us immediate and free entrance. A gorgeous hostess led us upstairs to a quieter VIP bar that overlooked the stage and dance floor below. We were shown to a small seating area by the balcony and settled at a table hugged by two half-moon velvet sofas. She propped a beverage menu in the center and said, "Your drinks are on the house. Enjoy your evening."

"Wow." Zayn whistled. "We scored."

"I think that hawker recognized you from an ad."

"Wouldn't that rock?" He grinned. "God, it's a great night. Hanging out with my best boy and crushing on a new hunk in my life."

"Oh?"

"I think I've decided to see where things go with Liam."

That made me happy. It felt like I'd been waiting forever for him to find someone who's treat him right. "Has he asked you out yet?"

"No, but I don't think it's because he doesn't want to." He shrugged and smoothed his artfully ripped T-shirt. Paired with black leather pants and spiked wristlets, it made him look sexy and wild. "I just think he's just trying to figure out the situation with you first. He wigged when I told him I lived with another gay guy and that I'd moved across the country to be with you. He's worried I might be secretly hung up on you. That's why I wanted you two to meet today, so he could see how you and I are together."

"I'm sorry, Zayn. I'll try to put him at ease about it."

"It's  _not_  your fault. Don't worry about it. It'll work out if it's supposed to."

His assurances didn't make me feel better. I tried to think of a way I could help.

Two guys stopped by our table. "Okay if we join you?" the taller one asked.

I glanced at Zayn, and then back at the guys. They looked liked brothers and they were very attractive. Both were smiling and confident, their stances loose and easy. 

I was about to say,  _Sure_ , when a warm hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed firmly. "This one's taken."

Across from me, Zayn gaped as Harry Styles rounded the sofa and extended his hand to him. "Malik. Harry Styles."

"Zayn Malik." He shook Harry's hand with a wide smile. "But you knew that. Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

I could've killed him. I seriously thought about it.

"Good to know." Harry settled on the seat beside me, his arm draped behind me so that his fingertips could brush casually and possessively up and down my arm. "Maybe there's hope for me yet."

Twisting at the waist, I faced him and whispered fiercely, "What are you doing?"

He shot me a hard glance. "Whatever it takes."

"I'm going to dance." Zayn stood with a mischievous grin. "Be back in a bit."

Ignoring my pleading glance, my best friend blew me a kiss and the guys followed him. I watched them all go, my heart racing. After another minute, ignoring Harry became ridiculous, as well as impossible.

My glaze slid over him. He wore dress slacks in graphite gray and a back V-neck sweater, the overall effect being one of careless sophistication. I loved the look on him and was attracted to the softness it gave him, even though I know it was only an illusion. He was a hard man in a lot of ways.

I took a deep breath, feeling like I needed to make an effort to socialize with him. After all, wasn't that my big complaint? That he wanted to skip past the getting-to-know-you stage and jump straight into bed?

"You look..." I paused.  _Fantastic. Wonderful. Amazing. So damn sexy..._  In the end, I went with the lame, "I like the way you look."

His brow arched. "Ah, something you like about me. Is that a general like of the overall package? Or just the clothes? Only the sweater? Or maybe it's the pants?"

The edge to his tone rubbed me the wrong way. "And if I say it's just the sweater?"

"I'll buy a dozen and wear them every damn day."

"That would be a shame."

"You don't like the sweater?" He was pissy, his words coming clipped and fast.

My hands flexed restlessly in my lap. "I love the sweater, but I also like the suits."

He stared at me a minute, and then nodded. "How was your date with your butt plug?"

 _Oh hell._  I looked away. It was a lot easier talking about masturbation over the phone. Doing it while squirming under that piercing blue stare was mortifying. "I don't kiss and tell."

He brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek and murmured, "You're blushing."

I heard the amusement in his voice and swiftly changed topics. "Do you come here often?"

Shit. Where did that clichéd line come from? **  
**

His hand dropped to my lap and caught one of mine, his fingers curling into my palm. "When necessary."

A quick stab of jealousy made me stiffen. I glared at him, even though I was mad at myself for caring either way. "What does that mean? When you're on the prowl?"

Gideon's mouth curved into a genuine smile that hit me hard. "When expensive decisions need to be made. I own this club, Louis."

Of course he did. Jeez.

A pretty waitress set two pinkish-coloured iced drinks in square tumblers on the table. She looked at Louis and gave him a flirtatious smile. "Here you go, Mr. Styles. Two Stoli Elit and cranberries. Can I get you anything else?"

"That'll be all for now. Thanks."

I could totally see that she wanted to get on the preapproved list and I bristled at that; then I was distracted by what we'd been served. It was my beverage of choice when clubbing and what I'd been drinking all night. My nerves tingled. I watched hi take a drink, swirl it around his mouth like a fine wine, and then swallow it. The working of his throat made me hot, but that was nothing compared to what the intensity of his stare did to me.

"Not bad," he murmured. "Tell me if we made it right."

He kissed me. He moved in fast, but I saw it coming and didn't turn away. His mouth was cold and flavoured with alcohol-laced cranberry. Delicious. All the chaotic emotion and energy that had been writhing around inside me abruptly became too much to contain. I shoved a hand in his glorious hair and clenched it tight, holding him still as I sucked on his tongue. His groan was the most erotic sound I'd ever heard, making the flesh between my legs harden viciously.

Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I wrenched away, gasping.

Harry followed, muzzling the side of my face, his lips brushing over my ear. He was breathing hard, too, and the sound of the ice in his tumbler clinking against the glass skittered across my inflamed senses.

"I need to be inside you, Louis," he whispered roughly. "I'm aching for you."

My gaze fell to my drink on the table, my thoughts swirling around in my head, a clusterfuck of impressions and recollections and confusion. "How did you know?"

His tongue traced the shell of my ear and I shivered. It felt like every cell in my body was straining toward his. Resisting him took an impossible amount of energy, draining me and making me feel tired.

"Know what?" he asked.

"What I like to drink? What Zayn's name is?"

He inhaled deeply and then pulled away. Setting his drink down, he shifted on the sofa and drew a knee up onto the cushion between us so that he faced me directly. His arm once again draped over the sofa back, his fingertips drawing circles on the curve of my shoulder. "You visited another of my clubs earlier. Your credit card popped and your drinks were recorded. And Zayn Malik is listed on the rental agreement for your apartment."

The room spun.  _No way..._  My cell phone. My credit card. My fucking apartment. I couldn't breathe. Between my mother and Harry, I felt claustrophobic.

"Louis. Jesus. You're white as a ghost." He shoved a glass into my hand. "Drink."

It was the Stoli and cranberry. I pounded it, draining the tumbler. My stomach churned for a moment, then settled. "You own the building I live in?" I gasped.

"Oddly enough, yes." He moved to sit on the table, facing me, his legs on either side of mine. He took my glass and set it aside, then warmed my chilled hands with his.

"Are you crazy, Harry?"

His mouth thinned. "Is that a serious question?"

"Yes. Yes, it is. My mom stalks me, too, and she sees a shirk. Do you have a shrink?"

"Not presently, but you're driving me crazy enough to make that a possibility."

"So this behaviour isn't normal for you?" My heart was pounding. I could hear the blood rushing past my eardrums. "Or is it?"

He shoved a hand through his hair, restoring order to the strands I'd mussed when we'd kissed. "I accessed information you voluntarily made available to me."

"Not to you! Not for what you used it for! That has to violate some kind of privacy law." I stared at hi, more confused than ever. "Why would you do that?"

He had the grace to look disgruntled, at least. "So I can figure you out, damn it."

"Why don't you just  _ask_  me, Harry? Is that so fucking hard for people to do nowadays?"

"It s with you." He grabbed his drink off the table and tossed back most of it. "I can't get you alone for more than a few minutes at a time."

"Because the only thing you want to talk about is what you have to do to get laid!"

"Christ, Louis," he hissed, squeezing my hand. "Keep your voice down!"

I studied him, taking in every line and plane of his face. Unfortunately, cataloging the details didn't lessen my awe even a tiny bit. I was beginning to suspect I'd never get over being dazzled by his looks.

And I wasn't alone; I'd seen how other women reacted around him. And he was crazy rich, which made even old, bald, and paunchy guys attractive. It was no wonder he was used to snapping his fingers and scoring an orgasm.

His gaze darted over my face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm thinking."

"About what?" His jaw tightened. "And I'm warning you, if you say anything about orifices, preapprovals, or seminal emissions, I won't be held accountable for my actions."

That almost made me smile. "I want to understand a few things, because I think it's possible I'm not giving you enough credit."

"I'd like to understand a few things myself," he muttered.

"I'm guessing the 'I want to fuck you' approach has a high success rate for you."

Harry's face smoothed into unreadable impassivity. "I'm not touching that one, Louis."

"Okay. You want to figure out what it's going to take to get me into bed. Is that why you're here in this club right now? Because of me? And don't say what you think I want to hear."

His gaze was clear and steady. "I'm here for you, yes. I arranged it."

Suddenly the threads the street hawker had been wearing made sense. We'd been hustled by someone on Styles Industries' payroll. "Did you figure that getting me here would get you laid?"

His mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. "There's always the hope, but I expected it would take more work than a chance meeting over drinks."

"You're right. So why do it? Why not wait until Monday lunch?"

"Because you're out trolling. I can't do anything about butt plugs, but I can stop you from picking up some asshole in a bar. You want to score, Louis, I'm right here."

"I'm not trolling. I'm burning off tension after a stressful day."

"You're not the only one." He stroked my cheek. "So you drink and dance when you're tense. I work on the problem that's making me tense in the first place."

His voice had softened, and it stirred and alarming yearning. "Is that what I am? A problem?"

"Absolutely." But there was a hint of a smile around his lips.

I knew that was a lot of the appeal for him. Harry Styles wouldn't be where he was, at such a young age, if he took "no" gracefully. "What's your definition of dating?"

A frown marred the space between his brows. "Lengthy social time spent with a person during which we're not actively fucking."

"Don't you enjoy the company of women?"

The frown turned into a scowl. "Sure, as long as there aren't any exaggerated expectations or excessive demands on my time. I've found the best way to steer clear of those is to have mutually exclusive sexual relationships and friendships."

There were those pesky "exaggerated expectations" again. Clearly, those were a sticking point with him. "So, you do have female friends?"

"Of course." His legs tightened around mine, capturing me. "where are you going with this?"

"You segregate sex from the rest of your life. You separate i from friendship, work...everything."

"I've got good reasons for doing that."

"I'm sure you do. Okay, here are my thoughts." It was difficult concentrating when I was so close to Harry. "I told you I don't want to date and I don't. My job is my priority number one and my personal life- as a single-man- is a close second. I don't want to sacrifice any of that time on a relationship, and there's really not enough left over to squeeze in anything steady."

"I'm right there with you."

"But I like sex."

"Good. Have it with me." His smile was an erotic invitation.

I shoved his shoulder. "I need a personal connection with the men I sleep with. It doesn't have to be intense or deep, but sex needs to be more than an emotionless transaction for me."

"Why?"

I could tell he wasn't being flippant. As bizarre as this conversation must be for him, Harry was taking it seriously. "Call it one of my quirks, and I'm not saying that lightly. It pisses me off to feel used for sex. I feel devaluated."

"Can't you look at it as  _you_  using  _me_  for sex?"

"Not with you." He was too forceful, too demanding.

A sizzling, predatory glimmer sparked in his eyes as I bared my weakness for him.

"Besides," I went on quickly, "that's semantics. I need an equal exchange in my sexual relationships. Or to have the upper hand."

"Okay."

"Okay? you said that really quickly, considering I'm telling you I need to combine two things you work so hard to avoid putting together."

"I'm not comfortable with it and I don't claim to understand, but I'm hearing you- its an issue. Tell me how to get around it."

My breath left me in a rush. I hadn't expected that. He was a man who wanted no complications with his sex and I was a man who found sex complicated, but he wasn't giving up. Yet.

"We need to be friendly, Harry. Not best buds or confidants, but two people who know more about each other than their anatomy. To me, that means we have to spend time together when we're not actively fucking. And I'm afraid we'll have to spend time not actively fucking in places where we're forced to restrain ourselves."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

"Yes. And see, that's what I mean. I wasn't giving you credit for that. You should've done it in a less creepy manner"- I covered his lips with my fingers when h tried to cut me off- "but I admit you did try to set up a time to talk and I wasn't helpful."

He nipped my fingers with his teeth, making me yelp and yank my hand away.

"Hey. What was that for?"

He lifted my abused hand to his mouth and kissed the hurt, his tongue darting out to soothe. And incite.

In self-defense, I tugged my hand back to my lap. I still wasn't completely confident that we'd worked thing out. "Just so you know there are no exaggerated expectations- when you and I spend time together not actively fucking, I won't think it's a date. All right?"

"that covers it." Louis smiled, and my decision to be with him solidified for me. His smile was like lightning in the darkness, blinding and beautiful and mysterious, and I wanted him so badly it was physically painful.

His hands slid down to cup the backs of my thighs. Squeezing gently, he tugged me just a little bit closer. The hem of my black dress shirt rode up, and his gaze was riveted to the flesh he'd exposed. His tongue wet his lips in an action so carnal and suggestive I could almost feel the caress on my skin.

Duffy began begging for mercy, her voice drifting up from the dance floor below. An unwelcome ache developed in my chest and I rubbed at it.

I'd already had enough, but I heard myself saying, "I need another drink."


	5. F I V E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction (unfortunately), or this story, I've merely adapted parts of it to fit the pairing and different characters. All rights to Sylvia Day.
> 
> This chapter is for Jordandicosola on Wattpad who couldn't read the chapter on there because it was made private so this is for you:) -Sophie

I had a vicious hangover on Saturday morning and figured it was no less than I deserved. As much as I'd resented Harry's insistence on negotiating sex with as much passion as he would a merger, in the end I'd negotiated in kind. Because I wanted him enough to take a calculated risk and break my own rules.

I took comfort in knowing he was breaking some of his own, too.

After a long, hot shower, I made my way into the living room and found Zayn on the couch with his netbook, looking fresh and alert. Smelling coffee in the kitchen, I headed there and filled the biggest mug I could find.

"Morning, sunshine," Zayn called out.

With my much-needed dose of caffeine wrapped between both palms, I joined him on the couch. He pointed at a box on the end table. "That came for you while you were in the shower."

I set my mug on the coffee table and picked up the box. It was wrapped with brown paper and twine and had my name handwritten diagonally across the top with a decorative calligraphic flourish. Inside was an amber glass bottle with  **Hangover Cure**  painted on it in a white old-fashioned font and a note tied with a raffia to the bottle's neck that said,  _Drink me_. Louis' business card was nestled in the cushioning tissue paper.

As I studied the gift, I found it very apt. Since meeting Harry I'd felt like I'd fallen down the rabbit hole into a fascinating and seductive world where few of the known rules applied. I was in uncharted territory that was both exciting and scary.

I glanced at Zayn, who eyed the bottle dubiously.

"Cheers." I pried the cork out and drank the contents without thinking twice about it. It tasted like sickly sweet cough syrup. My stomach quivered in distaste for a moment and then heated. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shoved the cork back into the empty bottle.

"What was that?" Zayn asked.

"From the burn, it's hair of the dog."

His nose wrinkled. "Effective but unpleasant."

And it was working. I already felt a little steadier.

Zayn picked up the box and dug out Harry's card. He flipped it over, then held it out to me. On the back Harry had written  _Call me_  in bold slashing penmanship and jotted down a number.

I took the card, curling my hand around it. His gift was proof that he was thinking about me. His tenacity and focus were seductive. And flattering.

There was no denying I was in trouble where Louis was concerned. I craved the way I felt when he touched me, and I loved the way he responded when I touched him back. When I tried to think of what I  _wouldn't_  agree to do to have his hands on me again, I couldn't come up with much. 

When Zayn tried to hand me the phone, I shook my head. "Not yet. I need a clear head when dealing with him, and I'm still fuzzy."

"You two seemed cozy last night. He's definitely into you."

"I'm definitely into him." Curling into the corner of the couch, I pressed my cheek into the cushion and hugged my legs to my chest. "We're going to hang out, get to know each other, have casual-but-physically-intense sex, and be otherwise completely independent. No strings, no expectations, no responsibilities."

Zayn hit a button on his netbook and the printer on the other side of the room started spitting out pages. Then he snapped the computer closed, set it on the coffee table, and gave me all his attention. "Maybe it'l turn into something serious."

"Maybe not," I scoffed.

"Cynic."

"I'm not looking for happily-ever-after, Zayn, especially not with a mega-mogul like Styles. I've seen what it's like for my mom being connected to powerful men. It's a full-time job with a part-time companion. Money keeps Mom happy, but it wouldn't be enough for me."

My dad loved my mom. He'd asked her to marry him and share his life. She'd turned him down because he didn't have the hefty portfolio and sizable bank account she required in a husband. Love wasn't a requisite for marriage in Johanna Deakin's opinion, and since her sultry-eyed, breathy-voiced beauty was irresistible to most men, she'd never had to settle for less than whatever she wanted. Unfortunately she hadn't wanted my dad for the long haul. 

Glancing at the clock,I saw it was ten thirty. "I guess I should get ready."

"I love spa day with your mom." Zayn smiled, and it chased the lingering shadows on my mood away. "I feel like a god when we're done."

"Me, to. Of the god persuasion."

We were so eager to be off that we went downstairs to meet the car rather than wait for the front desk to call up.

The doorman smiled as we stepped outside- me in skinny jeans and a silk shirt, and Zayn in hip-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

"Good morning, Mr. Tomlinson, Mr. Malik. Will you need a cab today?"

"No thanks, Paul. We're expecting a car." Zayn grinned. "It's spa day at Perrini's!"

"Ah, Perrini's Day Spa." Paul gave a sage nod. "I bought my wife a gift certificate for our anniversary. She enjoyed it so much I plan to make it a tradition."

"You did good, Paul," I said. "Pampering a woman never goes out of style."

A black town car pulled up with Clancy at the wheel. Paul opened the rear door for us and we climbed in, cheering when we found a box of Knipschildt's Chocopologie on the seat. Waving at Paul, we settled back and dug in, taking tiny nibbles of the truffles that were worth savouring slowly.

Clancy drove us straight to Perrini's, where the relaxation began from the moment one walked in the door. Crossing the entrance threshold was like taking a vacation on the far side of the world. Every arched doorway was framed by lushly vibrant striped silks, while jeweled pillows decorated elegant chaises and oversized armchairs.

Birds chirped from suspended gilded cages, and potted plants filled every corner with lush fronds. Small decorative fountains added the sounds of running water,while stringed instrumental music was piped into the room via cleverly hidden speakers. The air was redolent with a mix of exotic spices and fragrances, making me feel like I'd stepped into  _Arabian Nights._

It was  _this close_  to being too much, but it didn't cross the line. Instead, Perrini's was exotic and luxurious, an indulgent treat for those who could afford it. Like my mother, who'd just finished a milk-and-honey bath when we arrived. I studied the menu of treatments available settling on the "passionate pampering". The treatment- "designed to make you sexually irresistible"- sounded like exactly what I needed.

I'd finally managed to get my mind back into the safe zone of work when Zayn spoke up from the pedicure chair beside mine.

"Mrs. Twist, have you met Harry Styles?"

I gaped at him. He knew damn well my mom when nuts over any news about my romantic- and not-so-romantic, as the case may be- relationships.

My mother, who sat in the chair on the other side of me, leaned forward with her usual girlish excitement over a rich, handsome man. "Of course. He's one of the wealthiest men in the world. Number twenty-five or so on  _Forbes'_ s list, if I'm remembering correctly. A very driven young man, obviously, and a generous benefactor to many of the children's charities I champion. Extremely eligible, of course, I believe he's bisexual, Zayn. He's got quite a reputation."

"That's very interesting." Zayn grinned and ignored my violent head-shaking. "Since he's digging on Louis."

"Louis! I can't believe you didn't say anything. How could you not tell me something like that?"

"There's nothing to tell," I insisted. "We're just... friends."

"We can do better than that," Anne said, with a look of calculation that struck feat in my heart. "I don't know how it escaped me that you work in the same building he does. I'm certain he was smitten the moment he saw you, anyway. He's also known for his excellent taste. Clearly the latter won out with you."

"It's not like that. Please don't start meddling. You'll embarrass me."

"Nonsense. If anyone knows what to do with men, it's me."

I cringed, my shoulders creeping up to my ears. By the time my massage appointment came around, I was in desperate need of one. I stretched out on the table and closed my eyes, preparing to take a catnap to get through the long night ahead.

I loved dressing up and looking smart, but charity functions were a lot of work. Making small talk was exhausting, smiling nonstop was a pain, and conversations about businesses and people I didn't know were boring. If it weren't for Zayn benefiting from the exposure, I'd put up a bigger fight about going.

I sighed. Who was I fooling? I'd end up going anyway. My mom and Dan supported abused children's charities because they were significant to me. Going to the occasional stuffy event was a small price to pay for the return.

Taking a deep breath, I consciously relaxed. I made a mental note to call my dad when I got home and thought about how to send a thank-you note to Harry for the hangover cure. I supposed I could e-mail him using the contact info on his business card, but that lacked class. Besides, I didn't know who read his inbox.

I'd just call him when I got home. Why not? He asked- no,  _told_ \- me to; he'd written the demand on his business card. And I'd get to hear his luscious voice again.

The door opened and the masseuse came in. "Hello, Louis. You ready?"

Not quite. But I was getting there.

 

After many lovely hours at the spa, my mom and Zayn dropped me off at the apartment; then they headed out to hunt for new cuff links for Dan. I used the time alone to call Louis. Even with the much-needed privacy, I punched most of his phone number into the keypad a half dozen times before I finally put the call through.

He answered on the first ring. "Louis."

Startled that he'd known who was calling, my mind scrambled for a moment.  _How did he have my name in his contact list?_  "Uh... hi, Harry.

"I'm a block away. Let the front desk know I'm coming."

""What?" I felt like I'd missed part of the conversation. "Coming where?"

"To your place. I'm rounding the corner now. Call the desk, Louis."

He hung up and I stared at the phone, trying to absorb the fact that Harry was moments away from being with me again. Somewhat dazed, I went to the intercom and talked to the front desk, letting them know I was expecting him, and while I was talking he walked into the lobby. A few moments after that, he was at my door.

It was then that I remembered I was dressed only in a thigh-length blue robe. What kind of impression would he get from my appearance?

I tightened the belt of my robe before I let him in. It wasn't like I'd invited him over for seduction or anything.

Harry stood in the hallway for a long moment, his gaze raking me from head to toe. I was equally stunned by his appearance. The way he looked in worn jeans and a T-shirt made me want to undress him with my teeth.

"Worth the trip to find you like this, Louis." He stepped inside and locked the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Thanks to you. Thank you." My stomach quivered because he was here, with me, which made me feel almost...giddy. "That can't be why you came over."

"I'm here because it took you too long to call me."

"I didn't realize I had a deadline."

"I have to ask you something time-sensitive, but more important than that, I wanted to know if you were feeling alright after last night." his eyes were dark as they swept over me, his breathtaking face framed by that luxurious mess of chestnut hair. "God. You look beautiful, Louis. I can't remember ever wanting anything this much."

With just those few simple words I became hot and needy. Way too vulnerable. "What's so urgent?"

"Go with me to the advocacy center dinner tonight."

I pulled back, surprised and excited by the request. "You're going?"

"So are you. I checked, knowing your mother would be there. Let's go together."

My hand went to my throat, my mind torn between the weirdness of how much he knew about me and concern over what he was asking me to do. "That's not what I meant when I said we should spend time together."

"Why not?" The simple question was laced with challenge. "What's the problem with going together to an event we'd already planned on attending separately?"

"It's not very discreet. It's a high profile event."

"So?" Louis stepped closer and fingered a curl of my hair.

There was a dangerous purr to his voice that sent a shiver through me. I could feel the warmth of his hard body and smell the richly masculine scent of his skin. I was falling under his spell, deeper with every minute that passed.

"People will make assumptions, my mother in particular. She's already scenting your bachelor blood in the water."

Lowering his head, Harry pressed his lips into the crook of my neck. "I don't care what people think. We know what we're doing. And I'll deal with your mother."

"If you think you can," I said breathlessly, "you don't know her very well."

"I'll pick you up at seven." His tongue traced the wildly throbbing vein in my throat and I melted into him, my body going lax as he pulled me close.

Still, I managed to say, "I haven't said yes."

"But you won't say no." He caught my earlobe between his teeth. "I won't let you."

I opened my mouth to protest and he sealed his lips over mine, shutting me up with a lush wet kiss. His tongue did that slow, savouring licking that made me long to feel him doing the same between my legs. My hands went to his hair, sliding through it, tugging. When he wrapped his arms around me, I arched, curving into his hands.

Just as he had in his office, he had me on my back on the couch before I realized he was moving me, his mouth swallowing my surprised gasp. The robe gave way to his dexterous fingers.

"Harry-"

"Shh." He sucked on my lower lip, his fingers rolling and tugging my tender nipples. "It was driving me crazy knowing you were naked beneath your robe."

"You came over without- Oh! Oh, God..."

His mouth surrounded the tip of my nipple, the wash of heat bringing a mist of perspiration to my skin.

My gaze darted frantically to the clock on the cable box. "Harry, no."

His head lifted and he looked at me with stormy blue eyes. "It's insane, I know. I don't- I can't explain it, Harry, but I have to make you come. I've been thinking about it constantly for days now."

One of his hands pushed between my legs. They fell open shamelessly, my body so aroused I was flushed and almost feverish. His other hand continued to tweak my nipples, making them unbearably sensitive.

"You're hard for me," he murmured, his gaze sliding down my body to where he was circling my hole with fingers. "You're beautiful here too. Plush and pink. So soft."

He held his hand to my lips, I sucked and then he slid one finger carefully into me.

My eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by a man, a man who was still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor beside me.

"You're so snug." Harry pulled out and thrust gently back into me. My back bowed as I clenched eagerly around him. "And so greedy. How long has it been since the last time you were fucked?"

I swallowed hard. "I've been busy. I had my thesis, then job hunting and moving..."

"A while then." He pulled out and pushed back into me with two fingers. I couldn't hold back a moan of delight. The man hand talented hands, confident and skilled, and he took what he wanted with them.

"I'll prove I'm clean and you'll do the same, and then you're going to let me come in you."

"Jesus, Harry." I was panting for him, my hips circling shamelessly onto his thrusting fingers. I flt like I'd spontaneously combust if he didn't get me off.

I'd never been so turned on in my life, I was probably going to come with my cock untouched. I was near mindless with the need for an orgasm. If Zayn walked in right then and found me writhing in our living room while Harry finger-fucked me, I didn't think I'd care.

Harry was breathing hard, too. His face was flushed with lust. For me. When I'd done nothing more than respond helplessly to him.

His hand on my nipple moved to my cheek and brushed over it. "You're blushing. I've scandalized you."

"Yes."

His smile was both wicked and delighted, and it made my chest tight. "I want to feel my cum in you when I fuck you with my finger. I want  _you_  to feel my cum in you, so you think about how I looked and the sounds I made when I pumped it into you. And while you're thinking about that, you're going to look forward to me doing it again and again."

My hole rippled around his stroking fingers, the rawness of his words pushing me to the brink of orgasm.

"I'm going to tell you all the ways I want you to please me, Louis, and you're going to do it all... take it all, and we're going to have explosive, primal, no-holds-barred sex. You know that, don't you? You can feel how it'll be between us."

"Yes," I breathed, palming my cock to ease the deep ache of how hard it was. "Please, Harry."

"Shh... I've got you, look into my eyes when you come for me." Everything tightened in my core, the tension building as he pushed his fingers in and out in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

"Give it up to me, Louis," he ordered. "Now."

I came hard with a thready cry, my grip white-knuckled on the sides of the cushions as my hips pumped onto his hand, my mind far beyond shame or shyness. My gaze locked to his, unable to look away, riveted y the fierce masculine triumph that flared in his eyes. In that moment he owned me. I'd do anything he wanted. And he knew it. Searing pleasure pulsed through me. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I thought I heard him speak hoarsely, but I lost the words when he hooked one of my legs over the back of the couch and covered my dick with his mouth.

"No-" I pushed at his head with my hands. "I can't."

I was too swollen, too sensitive. But when his tongue touched the head of my cock, fluttering over it, the hunger built again. More intense than the first time. He bobbed his head up and down my shaft, teasing me, taunting me with the promise of another orgasm when I knew I couldn't have one again so quickly.

Then his tongue teased my slit and I bit my lip to bite back a scream. I came a second time, he swallowed all my cum, my body quaking violently, tender muscles tightening desperately. His growl vibrated through me. I didn't have the strength to push him away when he returned to my dick and sucked softly... tirelessly... until I climaxed again, gasping his name.

I was boneless as he straightened my leg and still breathless when he pressed kisses up my belly to my nipples, he licked each of them, then hauled me up with his arms banded around my back. I hung lax and pliable in his grip while he took my mouth with suppressed violence, bruising my lips and betraying how close to the edge he was.

He closed my robe, then stood, staring down at me.

"Harry...?"

"Seven o'clock, Louis."


	6. S I X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> First off I'm super super sorry for making you wait so long for a new chapter, I know how frustrating it is, but I started university and my personal life's been super crazy and a few people in my immediate family passed away so I've been dealing with that as well. But I'm back now and my summer has started so I'm hoping to get as much of this posted as I humanly can, in the next few months.  
> Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this very slow developing story, but feel free to get excited because the following chapter is a very very smutting one!  
> Sorry again guys, please comment and let me know what you think!  
> S

“Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?”

He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Harry parts. “I really like my boss, Niall,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.”

“I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.”

“Yeah, I had a little too much fun last night. Zayn and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.”

“Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself that you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.”

“Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me… I’m going to start Krav Maga training.”

“Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.”

“You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?”

“Well… she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.”

My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for me or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce.

I kept talking, waving at Zayn as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said. “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red-carpet business and astronomically priced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Zayn and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pyjamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating, before a new workweek kicks off.”

“Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.”

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.”

“Will do. Bye, boo.”

The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt.

“Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.”

“Again? You just got a new one when you moved.”

“Long, boring story.”

“Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as for playing Angry Birds.”

“I’m over that game!” I laughed, and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.”

“That’s _my_ line.”

We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for a minute; then Zayn cranked up Calvin Harris on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.

I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Harry.

 

“Tie or no tie?” I asked Zayn, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention.

“Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.”

I lifted the fire engine red tie to my throat. The suit my mum has sent was charcoal grey and tightly fitted, clinging to me snug, crisp white shirt.

“Go for it! Dresses the suit up a bit more.”

With my hair swept to one side and messed up, I had a just-screwed look that was completed by my rolled up suit jacket sleeves.

“What would I do without you, Zayn Malik?”

“Baby boy” – he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine – “you’ll never find out.”

“You look awesome by the way.”

“Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off.

In his own way, Zayn could give Harry a run for his money… er, looks. Zayn was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Harry’s savage beauty, but both were striking men who made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight.

Zayn hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his deep brown eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never hd. The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realise how nervous I was. I looked at Zayn. “I forgot to tell the front desk he was coming back,”

“I’ll get him.”

“Are you going to be okay riding over with Dan and my mum?”

“Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Styles?”

I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier – on my back in a multiorgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realised I wanted…”

“You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “He’s a catch, Lou. And you landed him. Enjoy yourself.”

“I’m trying.” I was grateful that Zayn understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something.

“I researched the hell out of him this morning and printed out the interesting stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.”

I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

“Back atcha, baby boy.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring him up. Take your time. He’s ten minutes early.”

Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Harry Styles’ history.

It was like watching a train wreck to read that he was the son of Desmond Styles, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Harry was just five years old when his dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time.

 _Oh, Harry_ , I tried to picture him that young and imagined a handsome hard-haired boy with beautiful green eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating his father’s suicide – and the circumstances around it – must have been, for both him and his mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age.

His mother went on to marry Robin Twist, a music executive, and had two more children, Edward Twist and Gemma Twist, but it seemed that a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Harry stabilise after such a huge shakeup. He was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars.

With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women and men who’d been photographed with Harry and thought about his approach to dating, socialising and sex. I saw that my mum had been right – the woman who appeared with him most often bore the hallmarks of a Hispanic heritage. She was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy.

“Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired.

“Okay, it’s been long enough,” Zayn interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb.

“Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realised how much time had passed.

“I would guess you’re about a minute away from him coming to find you. He’s barely restraining himself.”

I shut the folder and stood.

“Interesting reading, isn’t it?”

“Very.” How had Harry’s father – or more specifically, his father’s suicide – influenced his life?

I knew that all answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room.

Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to Harry’s back as he stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. His reflection revealed a contemplative mood. His gaze was unfocused and his mouth grim. His crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if he were out of his element. He looked remote and removed, a man who was inherently alone.

He sensed my presence, or maybe he felt my yearning. He pivoted, then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink him in, my gaze sliding all over him. He looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at him. The rakish fall of chocolate curls around his face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch them. And the way he looked at me… my pulse leaped.

“Louis.” He came toward me, his stride graceful and strong. He caught up my hand and lifted it to his mouth. His gaze was intense – intensely hot, intensely focused.

The feel of his lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.”

Amusement warmed his eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.”

I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.”

A slight frown knit the space between his brows. “Do you have everything you need?”

Zayn appeared beside me, carrying my wallet. “Here you go.”

He winked at me which told me he’s seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.”

The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Zayn seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Harry, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although he didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space.

Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Harry and Zayn, and that lightened my mood and made me smile.

“Ladies,” Zayn greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring.

In contrast, Harry gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me.

I squeezed Zayn’s hand. “Save a dance for me.”

“Always. See you in a bit.”

A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Harry and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my jacket. When Harry settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good he smelled. I breathed him in, telling myself to relax and enjoy his company. He took my hand and ran his fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my suit jacket, feeling too hot to wear it.

“Louis.” He hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across his lap and his mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely.

  I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw him in my living room: I shoved my hands in his hair and kissed him back. I loved the way he kissed me, as if he _had_ to, as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on his tongue, having learned how much _I_ liked it, how much it made me want to suck him elsewhere with the same eagerness.

His hands were sliding over my back and I moaned, feeling the prod of his erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle him. With my knees on either side of his hips, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into his mouth, nibbled on his lower lip, stroked my tongue along his…

Harry gripped my waist and pushed me away. He leaned into the seat back, his neck arched to look up at my face, his chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?”

I ran my hands down his chest through his dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of his muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how he might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Harry.”

He caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.”

“No one can see us.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.”

“So let’s make sure we finish it now.”

His grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.”

“Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?”

“No.” His jaw hardened. “Have you?”

Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please him. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Harry Styles, and there was nothing to stop me but him.

I rocked my hips against him, stroking myself with the hard length of his cock. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“I need you, Harry,” I said breathlessly, inhaling his scent, which was richer now that he was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of his skin. “You drive me crazy.”

He released my wrists and cupped my face, his lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of his slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. He tensed.

“I need this,” I whispered against his lips. “Give me this.”

He didn’t relax, but he made no further attempts to stop me either. When he fell heavily into my palms, he groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed him gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized him with my hands. He was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up his length from root to tip, my breath catching when he quivered beneath me.

Harry gripped my thighs, his hands sliding upward to pull down my trousers, until his thumb found my red boxers. “Your arse is so sweet,” he murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ‘til you beg for my cock.”

“I’ll beg now; if you want.” I stroked him with one hand and reached for my wallet with the other, flipping it open to grab a condom.

One of his thumbs slid beneath the edge of my boxers, the pad sliding through my crack towards my hole, before circling the ring of muscle. “I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered, his eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I don’t want you to help it.” He pushed his thumb inside me, biting his lower lip when I clenched helplessly around him. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.”

I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to him with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.”

His hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.”

The seriousness of his low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.”

I saw his teeth flash white; then he hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I saw otherwise.”

My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment.

“Why, Louis,” he purred, rolling the lube coated condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?”

His sudden playfulness made me desperate to have him. Setting my hands on his shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Harry’s thick cock. His hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as he tore my boxers away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch.

“Go slow,” he ordered hoarsely, lifting his hips to push his pants down farther. His erection brushed between my legs and he moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it.

He tensed when I wrapped my fingers around him and positioned him, tucking the wide crest between my cheeks against my puckered hole. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my nipples hardening beneath my shirt.

 _This_ was what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw him – to possess him, to climb up his magnificent body and take him deep inside me.

“God, Louis,” he gasped as I lowered onto him, his hands flexing restlessly on my thighs.

I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with him, and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew he was feeling as off-centre as I was.

“You’re so tight.” His gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.

I took more of him, letting him slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath feeling exquisitely stretched.

Pressing his palm flat to my lower belly, he touched the slit my throbbing cock with the pad of his thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft strokes. Everything in my stomach tightened and clenched, sucking him deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at him from under heavy eyelids. He was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in his elegant tuxedo, his powerful body straining with the primal need to mate.

His neck arched, his head pressing hard into the seat back as if he were struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” he bit out, his teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.”

The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so hot as I slid smoothly down the length of his cock until I’d nearly sheathed him. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken him to the root. He was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that he was too big. It was rippling around him, squeezing, as he hit my sensitive bundle of nerves, trembling on the verge of orgasm.

Harry cursed and gripped my hip with his free hand, urging me to lean backward as his chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of him. Immediately his body temperature rose, his torso radiating sultry heat through his clothes. Sweat dotted his upper lip.

Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. His hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before he stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip.

“Slow,” he warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me. I lowered, taking him into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as he pushed _just_ past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds he made, as if the pleasure were as extreme for him as it was for me.

Wild for him, I pressed my mouth to his, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of his hair. I kissed him as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of his thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of his long, thick penis into my melting core.

I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride his cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger.

“It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to him. “You feel… Ah, God, it’s too good.”

Using both hands, Harry commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of his cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realised I was going to come from that, untouched, just from the expert thrust of him inside me. “ _Harry_.”

He captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over, and coming onto my inner thighs. He watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by his state, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, pounding his hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet his punishing lunges. He hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into my. I could feel him growing harder and thicker.

I watched him avidly, needing to see it when he went over the edge for me. His eyes were wild with his need, losing their focus as his control frayed, his gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax.

“ _Louis!_ ” He came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. He shook as the orgasm tore into him, his features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability.

Cupping his face, I brushed my lips across his, comforting him as the forceful bursts of his gasping breaths struck my cheeks.

“Louis.” He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to him pressing his damp face into the curve of my neck.

I knew just how he felt. Stripped. Laid bare.

We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. He turned his head and kissed me softly, the strokes of his tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions.

“Wow,” I breathed, shaken.

His mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

I smiled, feeling dazed and high.

Harry brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, his fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way he studied me made my chest hurt. He looked stunned and… grateful, his eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.”

Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?”

“But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.”

“Oh.” The moment was effectively broken.

I lifted gingerly off him, biting my lip at the feel of him slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. He’d barely softened.

“Damn it,” he said roughly. “I want you again.”

He caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently over my thighs and up over my hole. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had.

When I was dry, I pulled up my slacks and settled on the seat beside him and fixed my hair. I watched Harry out the corner of my eye as he removed the condom and tied it off. He wrapped it in a cocktail napkin, then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring his appearance, he told the driver to head to our destination. Then he settled into the seat and stared out the window.

With every second that passed, I felt him withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from him, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my jacket around me again. He didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside him, as if he weren’t even aware I was there.

Abruptly, Harry opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, he asked, “Brandy?”

“No, thank you.” My voice was small, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he didn’t care. He poured a drink a tossed it back.

Confused and stung, I pulled out my phone and tried to figure out what had gone wrong.


End file.
